


Rapprochement

by Transposable_Element



Series: Love and Honor [3]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Archenland, Cultural Differences, Family, Politics, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/pseuds/Transposable_Element
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kidrash Tarkaan meets his daughter for the first time in six years. They reconcile with each other and with their circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interlude at Anvard

**Author's Note:**

> I should note that a great deal of this doesn't bear directly on Kidrash or Aravis or their reconciliation. But most of it is about rapprochement of one kind or another.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravis receives a letter.

The letter came days before Aravis had allowed herself to hope for it, so she was unprepared. But as soon as she saw the seal on the envelope she knew what it was. She was alone when the messenger came, and she decided to go out to the orchard to read it. She was afraid to open it at first, but when she finally did, the salutation was enough to tell her what she most wanted to know. The letter began “My dear daughter.” 

The messenger told Cor about the letter’s arrival and he went looking for Aravis. It took a while for him to find her, since she wasn’t in any of her usual favorite spots, but eventually he saw her sitting on a bench in the orchard, partly hidden by the branch of a weeping plum tree. When she heard him, she looked up. At first he couldn’t interpret the expression on her face. He could see that she had been crying, but she looked dazed rather than unhappy. Then she smiled. “He’s coming,” she said. “Soon. With my brother.” Cor sat down next to her and she leaned up against him.

He put an arm around her. “I’m glad,” he said. “Although it would probably be easier for me if he stayed away.”

She laughed a little. “Well, he’s not at all sure about you. Shar gave you a good character, of course, but he’s…well, I can tell he doesn’t like the idea of you. He’s not entirely convinced you haven’t harmed me.”

“Just as long as he doesn’t try to kill me before I get a chance to assure him that I haven’t. Let’s hope he likes the actual me better than the idea of me.”

“I think he will. I hope he will. Oh dear, now we have to prepare to meet him. To introduce everyone…what an ordeal. Oh well, I suppose the hardest part is over now.” She wiped tears from her cheek with the heel of her hand.

“Am I supposed to do that? Wipe your tears away? Or is that just a thing that happens in books?”

“Probably just in books. I have a handkerchief somewhere…”

“Now I remember,” he said. “I’m supposed to kiss them away.” 

“That sounds right,” she said, turning her face toward him, so he kissed her.

“I wish we could go for a ride together,” he said. “Stay out all day.”

It had been more than two years since Cor and Aravis had been allowed to be alone together for any length of time. Not that anybody explicitly forbade it, but somehow whenever they went anywhere together there was always a reason that another person needed or wanted to come with them, and inside the castle there were always lots of people around. If they went for a walk after supper, someone would come out to find them before long. Two years ago Lord and Lady Tran had moved into the empty rooms just below Aravis’s. They said they liked the view better than the one from their old apartments, but Aravis knew why they were there; Lady Tran was a light sleeper, and anybody going to or from Aravis’s room would have to use the staircase that wound around the tower, passing right next to the couple’s bedroom. Nearly everybody at Anvard (except Corin, who was deemed unreliable) and quite a few people at Cair Paravel had been pressed into duty as a chaperon at one time or another. Cor said it was amazing that they had managed to be alone together long enough for him to ask her to marry him; but in fact it wasn’t amazing at all. King Lune had been hoping for a betrothal as soon as Aravis turned 18, so he had given out instructions to let them have some time alone on her birthday.

They both understood why all this chaperoning was necessary, but it was still irritating. Since they had become betrothed they were at least allowed to dance together all evening. And they were given a little more opportunity to be alone, but not much. Waiting was getting to be very difficult. On the other hand, now that her father was coming, it was more important than ever.

“Well, we can stay here for a bit,” she said, putting her arms around him. “It’ll probably be a few minutes before someone comes looking for us.” And it was, but only a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are they being so heavily chaperoned? Partly it's because King Lune is a stickler, a model of probity. Partly it's because Aravis wants to reconcile with her father and she doesn't want to give him any cause to complain about how Lune or Cor (or anybody else) has treated her at Anvard. She's also a little afraid that Kidrash will challenge Cor to a duel over her honor.


	2. Not According to Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kidrash arrives at Cair Paravel.

Aravis had been anxious and distracted since she sent her letter, and if anything this had intensified since receiving her father's reply. She was feverishly trying to remember all she could of Calormene protocol, but she had nothing to draw upon in the matter of a woman reuniting with her father after running away to a foreign land. About a week before Edmund’s ship was due, she and Cor and King Lune all went up to Cair Paravel to talk to the master of protocol there about greetings and introductions, and to get ready. Corin was glad to be left behind—as far as he was concerned, Aravis had been making the atmosphere at Anvard unbearable—but he was expected to come up in a few days so that he could be there when the ship came in. Aravis had ordered him to make friends with Rishti. 

Aravis had never been all that interested in clothes, but now she worried about what she ought to be wearing when she met her father. She now wore Archenland dress, of course, and she even liked it, all except for the stupid divided skirts for riding—the trousers Calormene women wore were much more practical and comfortable, and she had continued to wear them over King Lune’s objections. But she didn’t want her father to think her too much changed. She and Lucy discussed what she could do with color and cut to make an Archenlandish dress that wouldn’t look too foreign to her father, but Lucy wasn’t much better than she at clothes, so finally they asked Susan. Aravis had never gotten along with Susan, but she was grateful now for her suggestions: a narrow skirt with no petticoat, and a bodice with a wrapped waist and full sleeves in a contrasting color. The queen gave Aravis some cloth that Edmund had brought back from his last trip to Tashbaan. There was a bolt of heavy cobalt blue silk with a silver thread running throughout, and a bolt of lighter stuff in a rich maroon. There wasn’t much time left to have a dress made up, but Susan said the seamstresses at Cair would take care of it. “Maybe you’ll start a new fashion,” she said. Susan had been dying to give Aravis advice on how to dress for years. Many people thought Aravis plain, but Susan had always thought that if she were dressed properly she would be striking. Among other things, the clear, bright colors favored in the north did not suit Aravis’s complexion. Aravis was liking Susan better every day.

 

One morning a Talking Gull came with the news that the Splendour Hyaline had been sighted beating its way up the coast. With these winds it would still be a couple of hours before it reached Cair Paravel, which gave everyone time to prepare. Too much time, in the opinion of Corin, who had arrived the previous evening. Susan was helping Aravis get dressed and ready; Aravis was as nervous as a bride about this meeting. Cor and King Lune were reviewing protocol; they were also anxious. To Corin’s relief, King Peter suggested they go practice with the long sword while they waited. Corin’s formal training was over, but he never passed up the chance to practice with the High King, who seemed to be in very good spirits, but, like everyone else, a little jumpy. They worked at a few exercises and then sparred. Soon it was time to clean up and go down to the quay. Cor, Aravis, Lune, and the two queens were already there waiting. The ship had entered the harbor, and a little while later it came into dock.

Some of the sailors disembarked first, making the gangplank ready for the king. There were trumpets, and then Edmund walked down the gangplank with a middle-aged Calormene lord; obviously this must be Kidrash. Corin saw Aravis draw a deep breath. Kidrash was scanning the faces of the people on the quay; his eyes rested on Aravis, who came forward and made a Calormene curtsey, of a degree she had calculated very carefully; it was a curtsey that denoted respect, but not subservience, and in Calormen it would have been a scandalous way for a girl to greet her father. But it had seemed the right choice to Aravis. “Father,” she said. She finished her curtsey and looked up; he was staring into her face. Then he came forward, rested his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her brow. Corin thought this was probably not according to protocol.

“Aravis,” he said, “I feared I would never see thee again.”

“Father, I…” she said, and seemed unable to say more.

“We will talk together later,” her father said, after a moment. Aravis seemed to collect herself and presented Cor to her father. Corin knew how nervous Cor had been, but thought he did pretty well, bowing, shaking hands, saying all the correct things in a clear, firm voice. Aravis then presented her father to King Lune. Kidrash was polite, but Corin realized from his manner that Kidrash must blame Lune more than anybody else for his daughter’s long absence. It made a kind of sense, Corin supposed, although the man must know that Aravis would never have gone back to Calormen willingly, even if Lune hadn’t offered her refuge.

Kidrash actually smiled when introduced to Corin. “Ah, you are the boxer,” he said. “In my prime I could have given you a good contest, but I no longer have the strength of a young man.” 

“Oh, but canniness and experience can be as important as brute strength, my lord,” said Corin.

“Indeed? Quite an admission for such a young giant,” said Kidrash, but he seemed pleased. “Well, perhaps I will test you sometime.”

“I would be honored,” said Corin, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into.

A moment later he was introduced to Rishti, who said to him “Don’t let my father fool you. He was a famous boxer in his day, and he’s still in good form.” Corin wondered why Aravis had never mentioned this to him. 

The formalities went on for some time; Edmund presented Kidrash and Rishti to his brother and sisters, and then the king and queens greeted Shar and Peridan and the other courtiers who had accompanied them. Corin had earlier suggested having a picnic lunch on the lawn, but apparently this was not to be (for one thing it was January, and although there was no snow on the ground, it was cold). So there were more formalities, including a formal dinner. Aravis and Cor both looked happy and relieved. Corin saw Aravis take hold of Cor’s hand, even though she had cautioned Cor repeatedly never to touch her when her father was present—not until the wedding. (“What about when we’re dancing?” Cor had asked. “Oh, I suppose that’s all right. My father must know that men and women dance together here…” she had said.)

Finally dinner was over. Corin, who knew his brief and who had in any case decided that he quite liked Rishti, suggested going for a ride to see some of the sights around Cair Paravel. Rishti agreed with alacrity and proved to be almost as good a horseman as his sister. The queens went up to Susan’s rooms to compare notes on the afternoon’s events. Aravis and Kidrash had a long, private talk. Most of the other men went to the training ground to do some sparring. After a while Lune declared that he was too old to train all afternoon and departed, with the idea of collaring Kidrash once he had finished talking to Aravis. He disliked the idea that Aravis’s father was angry with him, though he could certainly understand why he would be. The others continued to practice. Except for Peter and Cor, none of them had done much training recently, and they all felt the need of it.

During their conversation that afternoon Aravis told Kidrash about Hwin's role in her escape. With some trepidation, she told her father an abridged version of how she and Shasta had met and traveled together, emphasizing that they had both been twelve years old—children, with no sort of romantic interest in each other. She also pointed out that they had never been alone, that the horses had always been present, and that Hwin, at least, would never have put up with any misbehavior. She was vague on the subject of how she had gotten out of Tashbaan and how Cor had learned of Rabadash's plot in time to warn King Lune and enlist the aid of the Narnians. She begged her father to forgive King Lune for not sending her home. Lune had treated her like a daughter, she said, and she would be forever indebted to him. She assured her father that she had never ridden side saddle. But yes, she did dance in the evenings, since it would be impolite not to do so.

Kidrash told her that he had long regretted trying to marry her to Ahoshta. He should never have agreed to marry her to a man so corrupt, and so old. He said he was ashamed of having listened to his wife’s persuasions. He begged her forgiveness, and she gave it.

The conversation was long and difficult, and there was much left to discuss, but in the end they reached a sort of rapprochement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't generally like summarizing conversations, but this one would have taken pages and pages, and it would have rehashed things that everybody who has read _A Horse and His Boy_ knows.


	3. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kidrash has two very uncomfortable conversations.

As Aravis and her father emerged from their talk, a servant told them that Aravis’s guests were waiting in the Great Hall. 

“Father, here is someone I want you to meet,” she said.

Kidrash was no fool, so he was not shocked to see that these guests were Horses: a mare, a stallion, and a two-year-old filly. Aravis put her arms around the mare’s neck and kissed her. “Father, this is Hwin,” she said. “Hwin, you must remember my father.”

Hwin did indeed remember Kidrash Tarkaan. He had been her master. He had once tried to mate her to a dumb stallion, a plan she had foiled by stubbornly balking. She was in season at the time, of course, and to persist in balking had been harder than she liked to admit, even to herself. Perhaps that was why she had never mentioned the episode to Aravis and had rarely thought of it since returning to Narnia. Now the old anger surged back. She whinnied a greeting as graciously as she could. Aravis knew that something was wrong, but she had no idea what it was.

Kidrash did his best to rise to the occasion. “I believe I have you to thank for convincing my daughter not to end her own life,” he said, bowing. “I am forever indebted to you, madam.” 

Hwin was still thinking of the incident of the dumb stallion. She could bring it up and hash it out here and now, or else let it go and never mention it. Well, she told herself, the man hadn’t realized what he was doing all those years ago, and he had surely forgotten the incident of the stallion, having no reason to remember it, or her, with any specificity.

Kidrash seemed puzzled at her lack of response. Hwin finally spoke. “I could not have done anything else,” she said.

“Hwin, what’s wrong?” asked Aravis.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Only overcome by memories best forgotten,” said Hwin. 

Hwin introduced her husband, a dignified stallion somewhat older than she, with a long, complicated whinny. He told Kidrash to call him Frim. Hwin then introduced their daughter, who said, “Call me Lily.” Both of her parents whinnied softly; Kidrash thought perhaps they were laughing. “Well,” said the filly, “If I have to choose a name that Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve can say, it might as well be one I like!” Kidrash bowed, smiling.

Kidrash was unsure how to make small-talk with a Horse, so he asked how Hwin had fared since her return to the north. 

“Oh, I can’t describe what a joy it has been. Finding my family again, being free…” she said. “But of course I cannot rest while so many are still enslaved.”

“Ah, yes,” said Kidrash, wondering how he had allowed himself to be steered into difficult territory. Usually this was not a problem for him; he rode a conversation as he rode a horse, with energy and elegance and precision, guiding it wherever it suited him. 

“Since returning home I have devoted myself to the cause of ending the slave trade,” Hwin said. “Soon after Bree and I returned, King Peter and King Lune joined us to take action against slavers who were trading in Horses and other Talking Beasts. With their help, we brought down the largest ring. That’s how Frim and I met…” she brushed her face against her husband’s neck. “He has been active in the movement for many years.”

“We believe my sister is still captive, somewhere in Calormen or the islands,” Frim said gravely.

“I am very sorry to hear that,” said Kidrash. What else could he say? “…Madam, do you know if there were any other Talking Horses in my stables when you were…with us?”

“No,” said Hwin. “I was the only one. I’m sure there are Talking Horses still in bondage in Calormen, but we believe that the trade in new captives has been ended.”

“I’m glad to know it. If I knew of any such Horses in my stables, I would of course free them at once.”

Hwin looked at him perplexedly. “You keep Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve as slaves,” she said. “If you would free a Talking Horse, why do you not free them?”

“Sons of…?” he said.

“She means humans, Father,” said Aravis. “Human slaves.”

“Ah, yes,” said Kidrash again. He was not accustomed to being at a loss for words. He began to understand why his daughter thought that the mare was a sufficient chaperon; she had a compelling moral certitude that, almost for the first time, made him feel uneasy about the practice of slavery. He did not notice that King Lune had joined them until the monarch spoke.

“Excuse me, my lord,” said the king, “May I have a word?”

If Kidrash had not been looking to extricate himself from this unnerving conversation, he might not have agreed. As it was, he was glad to seize the chance to escape. “Yes, of course,” he said quietly. He bid the Horses good-bye, saying he hoped to speak with them again. Then he kissed his daughter’s forehead and excused himself.

He and Lune went out into the courtyard and walked in silence for a moment. Then Lune said “I presume your daughter has told you about how she and my son came to Archenland,” he said.

“Yes,” said Kidrash, shortly.

“Then you know that my son was lost to me for ten years.”

Kidrash was taken aback and didn’t respond at once. Then he said “I’m afraid…I have had a great deal of information to assimilate this afternoon. I had not yet made that connection. But of course…”

“I hope you believe me when I say to you that I, more than anybody here, know what the last six years have been for you,” said Lune.

Kidrash was, once again, at a loss for words. He was angry at Lune for failing to return his daughter to him. How dare the man sympathize with him? How dare he have his own history of loss? Still, if his daughter was to marry the young barbarian prince—and after speaking with Aravis he had all but given up hope of preventing it—he would have to make his peace with Lune. “Yes, I suppose you must,” he said at last.

Lune nodded. “It has troubled me, all these years, my part in keeping her from you. But in the circumstances, I did not feel I could do otherwise. I owe your daughter a great debt, and she begged me to help her. The laws of Archenland concerning parental authority are clear, and I will not go against the law. To…bend the law by keeping her presence at Anvard secret was distressing enough. I hope one day you will forgive me.”

Kidrash wondered about the great debt Lune spoke of. Helping to bring his son back to Archenland, he supposed. The irony: Lune had repaid that debt by keeping another man parted from his daughter. “Well,” said Kidrash, trying to purge the bitterness from his voice, “I suppose I have no real alternative but to do so.”

“I have tried to treat the tarkheena as I would my own daughter,” Lune said. “To see her educated, to protect her virtue and her reputation…”

Kidrash nodded, wondering how much more of this he would have to endure before supper. He did not want to sympathize with this man, or thank him, or, by the Hand of Azaroth, _like_ him.


	4. I Hate to Pry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor sees a new side of Edmund.

By supper the mood had lightened. Lune told Kidrash about Aravis’s education and how very deeply esteemed she was in Archenland. Kidrash, though still angry, was beginning to realize that Lune had tried to do right by Aravis in his own way. He was even beginning to believe that Lune had been sufficiently vigilant in protecting Aravis’s virtue. 

During the dancing after dinner, watching his daughter and Cor together, Kidrash could not doubt that she loved the boy, though what she saw in him was still a mystery.

The first to retire that evening was Shar; watching him as he went around the room, saying his good nights, Kidrash predicted, correctly, that the High King would also retire within the half hour. Aravis was the next to go up. Shar had brought her a letter from Rodit, and she wanted to read it. After she bid her father and Rishti good night, she and Cor went into the corridor and held each other quietly for a moment. Then they kissed good night before anybody could interrupt them. Cor wandered back into the hall and circulated restlessly around the room; he was tired, but his mind was racing and he was not yet ready to go to bed. The party was thinning out. Lune had gone up; so had Peridan and his wife. Kidrash and Edmund were arranging go riding together the next morning so Kidrash could see some of the environs of Cair Paravel. Then Kidrash collected Rishti (who seemed all too interested in the novel idea of dancing with women), and asked a servant to show them their rooms. The dancing ended, and soon only Corin, Edmund, Lucy, and a few courtiers were left, sitting by the fire drinking wine. 

Edmund noticed Cor approaching and stood up to meet him. “Let's have a talk,” he said. 

“Of course,” said Cor. He liked King Edmund, and they hadn’t yet had much chance to talk.

They went outside and strolled along the walkway next to the lighted windows of the great hall. “Are you all right?” Edmund asked.

Cor sighed. “I think so. It’s been quite a day…”

“Yes, I imagine so. Well, I’m glad we were able to bring Aravis’s father to her. The meeting seemed to go well—or at least, as well as could be hoped.”

“I think Aravis is relieved. The last few weeks have been hard for her.”

“And for you?”

“Well, it wasn’t pleasant knowing I was going to have to ingratiate myself with a man who might very well believe it was his duty to kill me…”

“I don’t think you need to worry on that score, actually. He’s a very canny man. It’s odd—he clearly loves Aravis and is greatly relieved to find her alive and well. But he’s also…playing politics, observing, trying to find his advantage…an interesting man, potentially very useful to us….But listen, I had something else I wanted to ask you about. I hate to pry, but…”

“What is it, did you talk to Lord Dal?”

“Eh? Oh yes, he did say Susan sent him out to fetch you two in from the garden the other night. He felt bad about it, you know…”

“Aravis was upset. It wasn’t his fault, but she felt humiliated. I mean, not that we had…got very far…”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Good lord, you’re betrothed, you’re in love, you’re living in the same household, you’re together constantly—I’m amazed you’ve managed to keep away from each other this long. And you know, if something does happen, just…enjoy it. Honestly, people are such prudes….”

Cor was not sure how to respond to this. There was not much chance of enjoying anything when they were being watched so closely. After a moment Edmund went on, “No, that wasn't what I wanted to ask about…My brother mentioned to me this evening that your father took you and Corin to Galma recently. This is the first I’ve heard of it. I’ve been traveling so much, and it must have been while I was away.”

“Yes, it was,” said Cor.

“And I was wondering… what you thought of Galma. Now that you’re of age, I mean.”

Cor decided that there was no need to ask what Edmund meant by this. “I, um, slept alone,” he said. “But I think they had better luck with Corin. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Edmund looked relieved. “Yes. Sorry to pry, I just…Oh, I don’t know, it seemed like odd timing.”

“I don’t think my father knows what goes on there. I doubt he’d have taken us there if he did.”

“No, it doesn’t seem like him.”

“But, why do you… I mean, why are you asking about this, sir?”

“Haven’t I asked you to call me Edmund yet?”

“What? Oh…I can try.”

Edmund laughed. “That’s the spirit!”

“So, um, Edmund, why are you asking me about this?”

“Galma is an odd place. I’d hate to see you drawn in there, when you’re about to be married. That’s all.”

Cor laughed. “Thank you for being concerned about my virtue. But it wasn’t that hard to, um, abstain. I don't really want anybody but Aravis..."

Edmund nodded.

“This is a very odd conversation…” said Cor.

“How so?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You ask me to call you Edmund, you’re talking to me like I’m an adult. An equal. It’s disconcerting.”

“You are an adult. You’re of age. You’ll be married soon—lucky fellow.”

“Well, if it’s what you want, why don’t you get married? I’m sure you could go inside and find half a dozen ladies who’d agree to elope with you tonight, if you asked. Or you could bring home a bride from one of these foreign places you’re always visiting.”

“Oh, that’s a whole complicated, ugly topic. The short answer is that Lucy would never agree to it. I’d have to choose between her and my hypothetical bride….”

Cor looked at him quizzically. “Queen Lucy?....why does she?....”

“I’ll tell you about it sometime soon, but I don’t think I’m up to it right now. I’m tired. That was good work we did this afternoon…”

“Yes, now and then I start thinking I’m getting to be pretty good, but I realize when I’m outmatched. Even my father is in good form, and he’s over 60.”

“A little less false modesty, please. But I know: when Peter is around, and Shar, it can be awfully humbling….”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid I’m done in. I think I’ll be off to bed,” said Edmund, yawning. “Alone, as usual,” he added, gloomily. “You see? You’re not the only one who’s frustrated…” He clapped Cor on the shoulder and went inside.

Cor stood there for a while. The conversation had rather disturbed him. It was a side of the king—of Edmund—he hadn’t seen before. When he went back into the ballroom, the only people left by the fire were Corin and a few courtiers, apparently determined to drink themselves into oblivion. He bid them good night and went up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, Edmund doesn't hate to pry.


	5. Maneuvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kidrash and Edmund lay their cards on the table. Well, some of their cards.

The next day after breakfast, Edmund and Kidrash went for their ride. They took some time in the stables first; Kidrash was a good judge of horseflesh and they considered a number of mounts before choosing one for him—a stallion that Edmund would not have trusted very many men to ride. But Edmund knew Kidrash must be a skilled horseman, since he was the one who had taught Aravis to ride. The stallion did some prancing during the first few minutes, but soon he accepted Kidrash as his master, and man and horse were behaving as though they had been together for years.

They rode up to the headland north of Cair, where there was a good view in all directions. Edmund liked to take visitors here, and it was a good place for a private talk. To the north they could see the delta at the mouth of the River Shribble; to the west, there was forest and the loop of the Great River; to the east, the sea and a glimpse of the coast of Galma; to the southwest, there was the Hill of the Stone Table, and southward, beyond it, the mountain range bordering Archenland. 

“You can’t see Anvard from here,” said Edmund, “but that tall peak is Stormness Head. Anvard is on the other side of the pass, to the west. You’ll be leaving in a day or two, I suppose.”

“Tomorrow, I think,” said Kidrash.

“Not ready to think about Anvard yet?”

Kidrash smiled. “No. I’m still learning about Cair Paravel.”

“Oh? What are you learning?”

“Well,” said Kidrash, “I believe I now understand why the High King has not married. He and the Lord Shar are 'comrades in arms,' are they not?”

Edmund considered denying this but realized it was pointless. “That’s not an expression we use here,” he said, “and it’s not something that’s openly discussed, as I think you know.”

“But if I can see it after being with them for such a short time, surely others do.”

“Yes, of course they do. It’s an open secret. It’s been—how long? Five years, I suppose. Anybody at court who doesn’t at least suspect by now must not have eyes in his head. It’s fine, as long as people pretend not to notice. So I beg you not to allude to it—especially not to my brother. He’s very sensitive about it, probably more than he needs to be.”

“Of course, I will be discreet. But it seems a very odd thing for him to worry about. He is the High King, who could make trouble for him over it?”

“It’s hard to explain, but I think you’ll understand better as you observe how things work here. And the lords haven’t quite given up on trying to convince him to marry and get himself an heir.”

“Many such men do, of course. But it is easier for some than for others. I had a comrade in arms myself, oh, many years ago. We both married, but we remained close friends. That’s how it often goes in my country. He died at the Battle of Anvard: Corradin of Tormunt.”

Edmund knew Kidrash well enough by now to be certain that he knew that Edmund was the one who had killed Corradin. He had a sudden, vivid memory of slashing Corradin’s head off. At that moment all he had felt was exhilaration. Then, after the battle was over, survival and victory, combined with the shock of what was left on the field: men maimed or dead, and the lives of the survivors—there on the battlefield and far away in Narnia, in Calormen—shattered. In battle, one did things that seemed quite unbelievable afterward. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

Kidrash shrugged. “I blame Rabadash for his death. Not you. Corradin would have killed you if he could, and your family would not have blamed him personally. Men die in battle; that is the way of the world. If he had died in a just cause, I would not have been angry. And of course my opinion of Rabadash goes beyond personal issues such as this. I tell you so that you will understand what I mean when I say that I think we must hope that Rabadash becomes Tisroc when his father dies. It is not because I think well of the man. He quite disgusts me.”

Edmund nodded. This was in line with many of the hints Kidrash had been making during their journey north. “Yes, I think I do understand. I detest him, but I’ve often thought that if he becomes Tisroc it will make our lives much more comfortable here in the north. He bears a grudge against us, so he may like to stir up trouble; but he cannot lead an army to war.”

“Exactly. If my daughter is to remain here, I prefer to see peace with the north. I do not wish to be cut off from her again. And I have long thought that Calormen would do better to strengthen control of the territory we now hold, rather than go adventuring to try to expand it. Our bureaucracy, as you have seen, is unwieldy and overburdened. It needs to be improved, made more efficient, more just. Much goes on in the corners of our empire that we would not tolerate if we had more oversight. We are too dependent on military might; too dependent on conquest as a means of control. We have other traditions, which we have allowed to fall into decline. Once we were scholars: our science, law, and art were renowned. I doubt that Rishti has the makings of a scholar, but I would rather see him pursue law or politics than become a warrior.”

“It seems, then, that we may be able to make common cause.”

“I hope so.”

“And do you think that Rabadash is likely to become Tisroc when his father dies?”

“He is the eldest son, and the Tisroc has not named another heir. I'm not sure why; perhaps he intends to name another heir on his deathbed, but plans to delay until then as insurance against assassination. In any case, unless he does, Rabadash will have the best claim according to law and precedent. But he is not well-liked by some important nobles, and of course everybody knows that he was once an ass; many people think him ridiculous. There may be a serious effort to put forward one of the Tisroc’s younger sons: Azaroth, or Ardeeb. It’s even possible that one or another of the warlords will attempt something more drastic than a palace coup.”

“That would be a disaster for us….”

“Yes, it probably would be. But Rabadash, despite appearances, is not stupid. He has been working to shore up his power base for several years now. He needs the support of the military and the bureaucracy, as well as some of the most important lords, if he is to gain the throne when his father dies. Several of his most trusted supporters died at the Battle of Anvard, and their heirs are not happy with him, so he is courting others. He has become very generous with titles, estates, sinecures. He even gave his favorite concubine to a powerful tarkaan who admired her.”

“That must have hurt.”

Kidrash smiled. “From what I hear, it did. Especially when he heard later that the girl was quite pleased with the change,” he said, with undisguised satisfaction.

“And where exactly do you fit into all of this?”

“Well, I’ve never been a supporter of Rabadash, but I think I’ve hidden the extent of my dislike of him. Corradin was one of the few people I ever spoke to about it—I tried to persuade him to abandon his support of Rabadash, you see.”

“Ah. That’s just as well. It gives you interesting potential as a king-maker. If you were to throw your support to Rabadash, that might influence others, tip the balance in his favor. Have you had any dealings with the Dardenbaan Cabal?”

Kidrash paused. “Yes, I’ve thought of that. It rather horrifies me, the idea of supporting Rabadash publicly, but I think I could bring myself to it, if the reward were great enough. It would put him in my debt, and since I have no need or desire for land, money, or a title, the only way he could repay me is politically. I could make the post of Grand Vizier the price of my support. It’s tempting. I would have the power necessary to make many of the policy changes I have long sought.”

“Indeed. I suppose there’s nothing we could do to assist you?”

“Oh, there might be. We would have to think carefully about how the Narnian and Archenlandish response to his ascension to the throne would affect matters. And I’m not sure how this marriage of Aravis’s would affect things. I suppose if we handled it properly, it would be an asset.”

“But you’re still not happy about it.”

“No…Another northern match would be much more acceptable to me—with you, for instance.”

Edmund was unsure how to answer this; he did not want to seem to be rejecting the idea on its merits. Finally he said “I’m flattered. But she has promised herself to Cor. Would you have her break her word?”

“No, of course not. But betrothals can be put aside honorably, if all agree.”

“That won’t happen—Aravis and Cor will never part willingly…I suspect that if you even suggested it to her, it would spoil any chance of reconciliation. Do you want to lose your daughter again?”

“No, no….I suppose I will have to learn to like this young barbarian. Give me time…”

Edmund laughed. “He’s young, but there's more to him than you may realize. I have no doubt he’ll be a good king one day.”

Kidrash sighed, still unconvinced. “Well, I thought it worth a try, though I didn’t think you would really consider the match. But I’m curious—why have you not married? You could get the heir the Narnian lords want.”

“I prefer to hold onto my freedom as long as I can.”

“Oh, that won’t wash. With the right kind of wife you could have as much freedom as you do now. You wouldn’t have to give up the lady you were visiting in Tashbaan, for example.”

Edmund shook his head ruefully. “I’m not even going to ask how you figured that out. Is there anything you don’t notice?”

Kidrash smiled, gratified. “I’m sure I miss things here and there. I don’t know who the lady is. Or, for that matter, whether there were several, or only one.” He raised his eyebrows invitingly.

Edmund smiled what he hoped was an enigmatic smile. “It’s hard to say,” he said. “Sometimes I lose count…”

“….so,” continued Kidrash, “You claim to enjoy your freedom; your brother has no interest in women; your younger sister clearly has no interest in marriage or romance and would be happy to be dedicated to whatever local goddess is the equivalent of our Zardeenah...”

This was many people’s first impression of Lucy. Edmund nodded and made a deliberate decision not to correct him. Kidrash didn't know everything.

“That leaves your elder sister,” Kidrash continued.

“I think she also likes her freedom. She’s a queen. Any marriage would diminish her power, not enhance it.”

“It’s very sad to see such a beautiful woman having to choose between freedom and love. But I see her dilemma. I had a chance to speak to her last night, and—forgive me, but I had not expected her to be so intelligent and sophisticated.”

“I underestimated her myself for quite a long time. Sometimes I think she prefers it that way. But eventually I realized that she knows a lot more than she lets on. And she’s a good negotiator—if she were a man, Peter would be sending her out on diplomatic missions, not me.”

“It’s hard to believe that she ever saw anything in Rabadash….”

Edmund was torn between the desire to keep as much information to himself as possible and the desire to defend his sister. The latter impulse won. “Rabadash did a good job of ingratiating himself with us when he was here,” Edmund began. “He fooled us all, really. But Susan’s agreeing to consider his proposal wasn’t entirely her idea. Peter put some pressure on her to consider the match. Of course he wouldn’t have tried to persuade her to marry a man she didn’t love, but he was adamant that she give the prince a chance. He thought their marriage would solve certain political problems for us.” Edmund sighed.

“And you disagreed?”

“Yes. We had quite a row about it….”

“It must be distressing for your sister, having people know—or believe—that she once favored Rabadash. There’s no question of what he saw in her, of course. She is astonishingly beautiful. And I suspect she is one of those women who grow more beautiful with age, not less.”

It suddenly occurred to Edmund that Kidrash was exactly the type of man that Susan found attractive. Dark, slender, sophisticated; cool in manner; extremely intelligent; and older than she. Possibly a little too old, but upon doing some arithmetic he realized that Kidrash was probably only a couple of years older than the Duke of Galma, who had been Susan’s lover for nearly ten years. _I am an idiot,_ thought Edmund, _I should have realized this much earlier._ On the other hand, Kidrash had also made a couple of slips. He had not even tried to finesse Edmund’s question about the Dardenbaan Cabal, which suggested that it had surprised him. Edmund had long suspected that Kidrash had known about the Cabal's (apparently long abandoned) assassination plot—but it seemed that until just now he hadn’t realized that Edmund knew about it. And Kidrash had mentioned Susan’s beauty twice inside of a minute. Edmund had a sinking feeling that the man was decidedly interested in finding a way into Susan’s bed, and that if he tried he might very well succeed. _Off to Anvard with you tomorrow,_ he thought. Not that it was any of his business what Susan did, but anything that might complicate his working relationship with Kidrash was to be avoided. Personal entanglements would be a distraction. Still, Susan was very good at keeping her private life private: she and Peridan had carried on a tempestuous affair for nearly six years, and Edmund was reasonably sure that he, Shar, Susan’s maids, and possibly Peridan’s wife were the only ones who knew or even suspected. Peter didn’t know, that was for certain.

“Have I rendered you speechless?” Kidrash asked.

“Oh, I never quite know what to say when people tell me my sisters are beautiful. They are, of course. They’re also very good sisters, and very dear to me.”

“Are you trying to warn me off?”

“Yes.”

Kidrash smiled. “I consider myself warned, then,” he said. “Now, let’s see what these beasts can do!” And he urged his horse up the hillside.

I know you can ride me into the ground, thought Edmund wearily. But I suppose you feel the need to demonstrate it. Very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have loosely (very loosely) based Calormene attitudes about male homosexuality on Classical Greek ideas.


	6. Friction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kidrash begins his pursuit of Susan. Another teenage boy with a pash for Lucy. Corin drinks too much. Lucy appoints herself head chaperon. Almost everybody is a bit cross.

After dinner Rishti and Aravis went off together to get reacquainted, Susan to practice her archery, which she had been rather neglecting, and Lucy to visit with her friend Tumnus. Most of the men went to the training grounds again, and Edmund was glad to discover something that Kidrash was not especially good at: he was a competent swordsman, no better. Shar found a couple of practice scimitars in the armory, and he and Kidrash sparred. Despite the fact that Shar had little experience with the weapon, he disarmed Kidrash easily; but then, Shar was formidable with any weapon, including his bare fists. Edmund wondered briefly whether Kidrash was actually better than he let on, but watching carefully he decided that no, he really just wasn’t very good and didn’t seem to mind being among the least skilled men on the training ground that day—which was interesting in itself. Apparently he was confident enough about his strengths that he didn’t feel the need to pretend to be good at everything.

There was only room for two or three good bouts at a time on the training ground—unless you didn’t mind an accidental stabbing, Shar said—so they sparred in a round robin. Watching Cor, Edmund was surprised and pleased to see how much he had improved. Edmund thought he held his own well against Peridan, who was skilled and experienced and, at 37, was not old enough to be slowing down noticeably. According to Corin, who was sitting with him, Cor had been training with Peter every day for the last week. Edmund hoped that Kidrash was watching, but unfortunately Peter and Shar were sparring at the same time, and when they were fighting nobody wanted to look at anything else. Kidrash and Cor sparred after that, but Cor was obviously nervous and, although he won the bout decisively, he was not at his best. Eventually it was Edmund’s turn to spar with Cor. The other bout going on concurrently ended when Dal quickly trounced the hung-over Corin, and after that everybody was watching Cor and Edmund, since theirs was the last bout of the afternoon. Cor, of course, was motivated to perform well; so was Edmund, who was still feeling unsettled by his discussion with Kidrash that morning. It was a wild, noisy bout, with much clashing of swords and shouting. Edmund saw that Cor was enjoying himself, and that he was good enough now that it was a real contest, not just an exercise. The bout went on for quite a long time, and eventually they had to stop and call it a draw, since it was time to clean up and go in to supper.

Cor went in feeling exhilarated and pleased, Edmund somewhat less so. It was all very well to accept Cor as an adult and a friend, but he wasn’t supposed to be so damned good with a long sword! They had both been going flat out, and Edmund couldn’t beat him. He was out of shape after weeks in Tashbaan and on board ship, while Cor had been working every day, but still, it was unnerving.

The rest of the evening proved to be no better. Peter retired early and so did Shar; they were getting awfully careless about appearances, Edmund thought, but on the other hand they had been apart for a couple of months, and Shar was leaving for Anvard tomorrow morning. Susan spent a long time after dinner sitting and talking with Kidrash. He didn’t know any of the Narnian court dances, which obliged him to sit out; and Susan either felt it her duty to sit out with him or was using her duty as an excuse. Edmund knew that Peridan must be unhappy about this—probably he and Susan hadn’t had a chance to be alone since he had returned from Calormen—but he hid his frustration well. Rishti, less reticent than his father, was quickly learning the simpler dances. He was quite taken with Lucy and didn’t understand the etiquette of relinquishing one’s partner after two dances. Corin, who appeared to be laying the foundation for another hangover, explained it to him and then monopolized Lucy for several dances, just to demonstrate to Rishti how rude it was, he said. Lucy, unhappy about being a bone of contention, finally excused herself and went out onto the terrace. She returned several minutes later gripping an angry-looking Aravis by the elbow; the two women said their good nights and then Lucy took Aravis upstairs. A few minutes later, Cor came in from the terrace, also looking rather cross, and sat by the fire drinking wine with Corin. Lune upbraided them both, though in an undertone—it was only by his expression that Edmund knew that he was angry. Lune then sighed wearily and retired.

Eventually Susan managed to persuade Kidrash to try a simple court dance and he did reasonably well. Edmund remembered seeing Rishti try the same dance the evening before while Kidrash watched him intently. At the time he had thought Kidrash was watching his son to see that no indiscretion occurred (the boy was only 14, but apparently precocious as far as women were concerned). Edmund now wondered if Kidrash had been trying to memorize the dance. Once Susan was up and dancing, Peridan claimed the next dance. Edmund then asked Peridan’s wife for a dance; if Susan was going off to bed with someone he would rather it be Peridan, so he thought he might as well keep Peridan’s wife out of the way. By now Edmund had had a fair amount of wine, though he was not exactly drunk. He and Lady Peridan strolled out onto the terrace and then into the garden. He quelled an impulse to kiss her—in the half-buried rational part of his mind he knew that this might lead to more, and if it did, he would regret it. Peridan wouldn’t mind: his attitude about such things was shaped by having lived in Galma until he was 21 and the old Narnian noble families began to return from exile. But it would cause all sorts of complications, not least because, although Lady Peridan was quite beautiful, Edmund had never liked her very much. After a while they parted. By the time he got back to the great hall nearly everybody had gone up. None of the principals in the Battle of Susan were present, and Edmund wondered whether anybody had scored a decisive victory, and if so, who. Corin was still sitting by the fire with a few courtiers, drinking; Edmund grabbed him by the collar and marched him off to bed, reminding him that he was going to be getting up early the next morning. The pass was not safe in winter, so they were to take ship to Armouth, the large town at the mouth of the Winding Arrow, and would ride up to Anvard from there.

The next morning the Anvard contingent got a rather later start than they had planned. Corin was sluggish, and although Lune thought that embarking on a sea voyage with hangover was the perfect punishment for overindulging, they did need to get him out of bed and onto the ship before they could depart. Also, Lucy had suddenly decided to travel to Anvard with the party. Her maids had not been told until this morning, and they were still packing. Aravis was monosyllabic, Kidrash cool and thoughtful. Shar must be deeply unhappy at having to leave Peter after only two days, but he didn’t show much outward evidence of this; he merely looked tired. The only one who appeared to be in really good spirits was Rishti, who was pleased that Lucy was going with them. Dear lord, another boy with a pash for Lucy, thought Edmund. He hoped Rishti wouldn’t make too much of a nuisance of himself.

While they were waiting, Edmund took Cor aside and asked him what had happened last night. According to Cor, he and Aravis had been having a rather romantic moonlit talk, but Lucy had happened to come upon them when they were kissing and had lectured them in what Aravis thought was a high-handed manner; the two women had quarreled. Lucy had appointed herself chief chaperon and was now talking about keeping one or the other of them at Cair for most of the time between now and the wedding. Cor privately thought this might not be such a bad idea—they would miss each other, but it might enable both of them to get their minds off what they were not being allowed to do. He knew better than to say so to Aravis, of course.

Edmund was still unsure of the outcome of the Battle of Susan, but he rather thought from the way that Susan and Kidrash parted that Kidrash was preparing for a long campaign. Later in the day he managed to get a private word with Peridan, who was in reasonably good spirits, having won the Battle of Susan the night before. As far as Edmund was concerned the only bad thing about this was that Kidrash had almost certainly divined the nature of Susan and Peridan’s relationship, and judging from his behavior this morning, this had not put him off and might even have sharpened his interest, since he now knew that Susan did _not_ choose between freedom and love. 

Edmund finally admitted to himself that the main reason he was feeling so glum was that he missed his lady in Tashbaan. After the ship sailed for Armouth, he went up to his rooms to write to her—a letter that he could not put either of their names on, and that would have to go through a dead drop. A letter so maudlin that he decided to burn it.

Things were quiet at Cair. Edmund spent a lot of time training, determined not to let Cor show him up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure why everybody is so out of sorts in this chapter. I suppose I just didn't want to make everything too easy.


	7. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravis worries about what Kidrash will think of Archenland. Kidrash is still struggling with some Northern customs and attitudes.

The wind was with them for the voyage, and the weather was cold, but fair. Everybody seemed to enjoy it except Corin, who spent much of the journey bent over the rail. By evening they were approaching Armouth, the town at the mouth of the Winding Arrow, Archenland’s only big town and only real port. As the ship put into Armouth harbor, Aravis wondered whether it had been a mistake to meet her father in Narnia before coming here. Archenland could not help but look like a poor country cousin after the splendor of Cair Paravel. She liked Armouth, a friendly, bustling port town built on the steep slope that rose above the harbor on the north side of the river. But now all she could think of was how small and shabby it seemed compared to Calavar Port.

The court of Archenland had once been in Armouth, but King Lune's great-grandfather, King Soon, had moved his court and a coterie of soldiers up to the old castle in the mountains early in the reign of the White Witch. For many years before that, Anvard, the ancestral home of Archenland’s kings, had been little used except during the hunting season and the hottest days of summer. But it was well-situated for defending the pass into Narnia and succoring Narnian exiles fleeing the witch—a flood of refugees during the first years, and then a steady trickle. The chance of an attack by sea was slim, since the witch was unable to cross the water; and besides, the Galmans, assisted by the other island principalities, had Narnia well blockaded. The pass, on the other hand, was vulnerable: there was no way to get large numbers over the pass quickly, but if it was left unguarded the witch might bring her army through little by little, hiding them in the mountains until they had built up enough strength to attack the lowlands. Keeping Archenland’s court in the mountains had made sense in the days of the witch, but not after Narnia's liberation. There was little in the mountains around Anvard: no town, no big farms, very few people. For 16 years, Lune and his council had been talking of moving court back to Armouth. But so far this was only a vague plan, because the king’s palace in Armouth, though newer than Anvard, was in disrepair, and there was not enough in the royal treasury to pay to refurbish it.

Archenland was a poor country. The high mountains in the north and west, the desert in the south, and a rocky, inhospitable coastline in the east made trade with other nations unprofitable. The valley of the Winding Arrow was fertile, and the hilly country that lay between the mountains and the river offered good grazing for cattle and sheep; but most of the country was mountainous, producing little except mohair and goat cheese. The once-rich mines of western Archenland were all but played out, and though Narnian Dwarfs had been prospecting in the mountains since the end of the Winter, so far they had found very little. It was a beautiful country, with a good and just king and a populace that seemed content; but Aravis worried that it wasn’t very impressive, especially to a man like her father, who was used to having the best of everything.

If Kidrash was disappointed or unimpressed, he gave no sign of it. He praised the inn in Armouth where they rested that night and appeared to enjoy the peppery seafood stew on which they dined. Aravis wished she knew what he was thinking.

The next morning they rode west along the banks of the Winding Arrow. Around noon they turned north and crossed the Southern March, but they passed by the Hermitage without stopping, since the Hermit had died the previous winter. They rode up through the snowy foothills and finally, late in the afternoon, came to Anvard. The castle’s mellow stone looked warm and cozy in the wintry light. Aravis felt a pang: would her father understand how she had come to love this place?

King Lune's wife, Queen Surr, welcomed them to Anvard. In winter few courtiers stayed at the castle, but Lord and Lady Dar, who would ordinarily have been down on their estate in the foothills this time of year, were there with their children. The queen, who had received a message from Cair Paravel by talking bird, was expecting their arrival and had made sure that the bathhouse was ready for them, even though it wasn’t a regular bath day. Aravis and Lucy went to bathe, and then the bathhouse was turned over to the men. Kidrash seemed puzzled by all of this until Aravis explained that the bathhouse wasn’t open every day, so if he didn’t bathe tonight, he wouldn’t get another chance until day after tomorrow. If he really wanted, he could have a private bath in his room, but she didn’t like to ask because it was such a lot of work for the servants. They all ate supper and went early to bed.

In the morning, Aravis showed Kidrash the castle. She took him up to her room in the west tower, then to the schoolroom and the library. At the armory they found Corin and Rishti getting ready to do some shooting—Rishti wanted have a go using an Archenlandish bow. After that Aravis took her father up to the solar, where the ladies often gathered during the day. Lady Dar and her two daughters, Kit and Ting, were finishing altering an old ball gown of Lady Dar’s for Kit to wear tonight (today was Kit’s 15th birthday, and there would be dancing after supper to celebrate). Lucy was there, too, knitting lace and chatting with them. They greeted Aravis and Kidrash cheerfully, and then Kit said “Oh, Aravis, why don’t you show your father how well you can spin!”

Aravis looked at her spinning wheel, sitting in the corner with the work that she had left on it a couple of weeks ago. Spinning, weaving, and sewing, which occupied so much of these northern ladies’ time, were considered beneath the dignity of a tarkheena. But her father appeared to be curious, so she sat down and showed him how it worked. “I’m really not very good yet,” she said. “I started learning so late. Kit’s been doing it since she was a little girl.”

Kit, who was open and talkative, and who seemed to want Aravis to show off her accomplishments to Kidrash, said “Aravis, did you tell your father that you make yogurt?”

“What’s this?” her father asked.

“Oh…well, when I first came here, they didn’t have yogurt. Nobody had ever heard of it. But I missed it, so I decided to find out how to make it. The Hermit helped, and a few other people, and then Mistress Bik, the cook…”

This was even more unsuitable than spinning, she knew, but her father only said, “Was that the yogurt I ate this morning? It was quite good. How do you make it?”

“It’s probably easier to explain it if I show it to you,” she said. So she took him down to the kitchen to show him her crocks of yogurt. She explained how the starter worked and how they'd made the original starter by using herbs. “I didn’t make so much of it in the beginning, but some other people besides me and Cor have started to eat it,” she said.

As Aravis introduced her father to the cook, she was a little worried that he might not realize what an important person Mistress Bik was. The cook was not especially deferential to anybody (she had been known to poke Cor in the ribs and had once swatted Lord Dar with a towel), and fortunately Kidrash decided to take her manner as an indication of her status.

Mistress Bik did not see any reason to hide the fact that Aravis had had more to do in the kitchen than just making yogurt. “Lady Aravis was a great help this autumn. Of course, everybody in the castle helps when the apples are ripe. There’s so much to do, and they all seem to come ripe at once! So everybody helps to pick, and sort and pack up the—”

Seeing the look on her father’s face, Aravis hastily interjected “I don’t pick apples, father. Only the men do that.”

“Worried that someone might get a look up your daughter’s skirt?” Mistress Bik asked cheerfully. “Nay, we never let the ladies go up on a ladder!”

But Aravis knew that wasn’t what had alarmed her father. Picking fruit was work for field hands—the most menial of slaves. He might be able to accept his daughter doing the same work as a house servant, but not the idea of her laboring outdoors. Still, he now knew that the noblemen here picked apples. Even King Lune did, although he joked that he was growing too old and stout for the work.

Mistress Bik went on explaining about how all the ladies came down to the kitchen to help sort out the best apples to store, and to peel, core, and slice apples for the drying racks, and to run the cider press.

“And once we’re through with all that, I take whatever’s left of last year’s cider and start making vinegar out of it. Lady Aravis helped with that this autumn, as well,” she said

“It’s very interesting, father. Fermentation. It’s a kind of science,” said Aravis.

“And this year we had more of last year’s cider than we needed for vinegar, so I kept some of it back to make applejack out of once the weather turned cold. You’ll taste it after supper tonight, perhaps. Not this year's, of course, that's still in the barrel, but I have an old bottling that ought to be ready to drink,” said the cook, with a little wink.

"I look forward to it," said Kidrash. What was applejack? He would have to ask Aravis later.

After they left the kitchen, Aravis suggested going for a ride, and her father agreed with evident relief.

As they walked to the stables, Kidrash wondered what he ought to make of all this. At home, aside from outdoor pursuits like swimming, sailing, and archery, which many men didn’t permit their daughters or young wives to do, a tarkheena might focus her energy on painting, story-telling, music, or dance. She might study mathematics, astronomy, or history, or devote herself to the service of her family’s patron god. But here, apparently, the ladies made clothes and food. He told himself that there was no shame in this. He loathed idleness; unlike many tarkaans he ran his own estate rather than hire a steward. He had taught all of his children to work, at their studies if nothing else. It made a kind of sense that, once here, Aravis had turned her hand to the work that a lady was expected to do.

Aravis introduced her father to the stablemaster, Carn, who said he was pleased to meet the man who had taught Aravis to ride. “A better rider I’ve never seen,” he said “and this young lady takes good care of the horses and the tack, which is more than I can say for some.” Kidrash smiled. He had taught Aravis how to groom and care for her horse himself, on the theory that if she knew how to do it, she would be able to make sure that the grooms were doing it properly. Kidrash himself still groomed his favorite saddle horse, not just because he wanted to see it done right, but because he enjoyed it. He supposed that many people would consider that unfit work for a tarkaan.

They rode along the track in silence for a while, until they came to a place where they could look out over the switchbacks descending the slope of the mountain below.

"Father, does it bother you? The kind of work I've been doing here?"

"You have repaid hospitality with courtesy," he said. "I have seen nothing dishonorable."

"But it bothers you."

"Dear me, how rigid you must think me," he said.

"When I first came here, everything seemed very strange to me. It would be surprising if it didn't seem strange to you."

He looked at her. "Well, then, you must give me time," he said. "And in the meantime, whatever you do, you must do it diligently. I would have been more troubled had I found that you were idle all these years."

She nodded. Then she blurted out, "I eat duck."

He looked at her puzzled. Clearly she expected this to distress him.

"I didn't mean to. The first time I ate it, I didn't know what it was until afterwards," she continued, in a rush.

"I've eaten duck," he said. "Whenever I visit the western provinces."

She stared at him. "But...ducks are sacred to Azaroth," she said.

He shrugged. "Azaroth is more likely to be offended by discourtesy to a host," he said. "If you are offered duck, you eat it. And you enjoy it. You eat so much that it drips from your beard."

"I don't have a beard," she said.

"Well, in that case you will have to think of another way to overindulge."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about horses, spinning, weaving, etc., and very little about the economics or daily life of a Medieval-ish castle. I do, however, know how to make yogurt. If you see any blunders, I would love to know about them. Besides, this is all made up anyway, and if I say the bathhouse is open three days a week and is used for laundry the rest of the time, who will contradict me?
> 
> King Lune remarried about a year after Cor's return, but I don't know very much about Queen Surr yet, except that she's a widow, about the same age as the king, and that just about everybody except Corin was happy when the King announced that they were to be wed.
> 
> Applejack is a kind of brandy made by freeze distillation. This technique takes advantage of the fact that alcohol freezes at a lower temperature than water—you let the cider freeze and then pour off the alcohol.
> 
> I stole the idea of eating so much that it drips from your beard from a Yiddish proverb that my grandfather translated as "If you're going to eat pork, let it drip from your beard." In other words, if you're going to sin, you should get as much enjoyment out of it as possible.
> 
> This chapter was undoubtedly influenced by the fact that while I was working on it I was also engaged in coping with the annual glut of plums produced by our very prolific tree.


	8. The Great Beauty Of Her Generation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of soap opera involving Corin, Kit, Lucy, and Rishti. Aravis tries to talk some sense into Corin.

Young Mistress Min had been the great beauty of her generation and had reputedly broken many hearts when she married Lord Dar 18 years before. Now nearly 40, with the matronly figure of a mother of four, she was still considered one of the most beautiful women at court. Lady Kit had inherited her mother's thick chestnut hair, wide brown eyes, and fine skin, and it appeared that she would inherit her voluptuous figure as well. Over the last couple of years Kit had gone from looking like a child to looking like a woman, and the transformation was stunning. Aravis tried not to be envious, but sometimes she couldn't help it.

Before supper, Aravis saw Corin and Kit whispering in an alcove of the Great Hall. As Kit turned away, Aravis could see that she wasn't happy. Catching Corin on his way to sit down, she pulled him out into the vestibule. "What did you say to Kit?" she asked.

"I asked her to help me keep Rishti out of Queen Lucy's hair," he said.

"Corin, how could you? It's her birthday, and she adores you—Lord knows why, I suppose everybody has to be stupid about something. And you asked to her keep Rishti occupied so you can dance with Lucy? You're even more of a brute than I realized."

"It's not so that I can dance with her," Corin objected. "I just don't want Rishti to keep bothering her. He's been an awful pest the last couple of days. Besides, I thought Kit might like him."

Aravis had to admit that Rishti had been making rather a nuisance of himself. "You could have asked me to help," she said. "He's my brother, after all."

Corin just rolled his eyes. "You never dance with anybody except Cor these days," he said.

Aravis sighed. "If I promise to keep Rishti occupied as much as I can, will you do something for me?"

"It depends on what it is," he said.

"Ask Kit for the first dance and at least one more later in the evening. Don't dance more than once with Lucy. And for goodness sake, don't get drunk tonight! You've been making a habit of it, and it's disgusting!"

"Oh, all right. I don't feel much like drinking right now anyway, that voyage down from Cair Paravel may have cured me."

"Do we have an agreement?"

"Yes, yes. I don't know why you take so much of an interest in Kit, anyway."

"She's my friend. And she's a lovely, sweet girl—"

"Oh, please don't tell me she'll make me the perfect wife one day. I get enough of that from my father."

"Really?"

"Yes. And Lord Tran, and Shar. Lord Dar can't mention it directly, but he's made plenty of hints. Even Cor said something once. I'd probably like her better if people would stop pushing her at me."

Aravis sighed. Men were so stupid. Didn't they realize that if you wanted Corin to do something, the best strategy was to tell him not to do it? "Well, that wasn't what I was going to say," she said. "She's too young, anyway. But you ought to be nicer to her. I know you like her, you've been friends since you were children."

"I do like her," he said. "It's just, she's not..."

"Corin, isn't it time you gave up on this pash for Lucy? You know it's hopeless."

"It's not just a pash. I love her."

Aravis didn't know what to say to this. Corin looked like he meant it. They went silently into the hall.

Between them, Aravis, Cor, and Corin managed to keep Rishti in line for the whole evening, allowing Kit to celebrate her birthday. Corin fulfilled his part of the bargain, and he even seemed to enjoy it. Maybe he'd come to his senses some day, thought Aravis, but with Corin that generally took a lot of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on names and titles, because I care about this stuff...
> 
> I'm using the convention that a woman is "Lady Given Name" if she's a lady in her own right, like Kit, and "Lady Husband's Name" if she's a lady by marriage, like Lady Dar (her close friends call her by her own name, Min). 
> 
> I took all of the Archenlandish names I could from _A Horse and His Boy_ (the Hermit of the Southern March mentions Shar, Tran, Dar, Darrin, Cole, and Colin). When I started making up names for my own characters I stuck to monosyllables. Tran is a common Vietnamese family name, so when I made up two younger brothers for Tran (in another story), I named them Nwin (Nguyen) and Fam (Pham). If you look, you may be able to spot some other Vietnamese names at Anvard, e.g. Bik (Bich). In general, I've given the men names with "A" or "O" as the central vowel and women names with "E" or "I" as the central vowel, but there are a few exceptions, because there always are. I've been less consistent about Calormene names. My excuse is that Calormen has a very heterogeneous society with many subcultures, so there are different naming traditions in different regions.


	9. Another Cup of Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravis and Cor have a quarrel. Shar is surprised by Kidrash's reaction.

The next morning Shar was drinking tea with Kidrash, and trying to ignore his leading questions about Peter, when the quarrel began. From above, there was a crash and the sound of a door slamming. The two men looked up in surprise. Shar’s heart sank.

“Open the door or I’ll break it down!” The shout sounded like it came from the gallery outside the library.

“Is that Cor?” Kidrash asked.

“Oh, um, yes, I’m afraid so,” said Shar. Aravis must have locked herself in the library. Maybe she would let Cor in and the whole thing would blow over. That did happen sometimes. But his hopes died quickly. Cor had begun cursing, and that usually meant that things would take a while. He looked cautiously at Kidrash.

To his surprise, Kidrash was smiling. “My word, the boy curses like a Calormene!” he said, delightedly.

“Well, yes,” said Shar. “He spent ten years being raised by a Calormene fisherman, you know…”

“Yes, but this is the first evidence I've seen of it...The man must have had some education, to teach Cor how to curse like that,” Kidrash said approvingly. “It’s quite rhetorically sophisticated.” 

“I must admit, I’ve always found it impressive…The first time I heard him do it, I couldn’t believe it was Cor,” said Shar.

They listened for another moment. “He must have come from Nidar Province,” Kidrash said thoughtfully. 

Despite himself, Shar was curious. “How can you tell?”

“Oh, by the demons he’s invoking. And he’s referring to the Serpent God as Saspratass—I may be wrong, but I think that’s the only place they use the name.”

“I see. That’s…very interesting.”

Aravis was shrieking something about how Cor would never have suggested such a thing if he really loved her. This was followed by another crash. Blast, thought Shar, she’s throwing things. He tried to think what there was in the library that might make a crash like that when thrown against the wall. So far Aravis had had enough self-control, even when angry, not to break anything really costly. She’d never broken a window, for example. But there was a first time for everything.

“Do they do this often?” Kidrash asked. He seemed completely unperturbed.

“Oh, from time to time,” Shar said. His impression was that as the two had gotten older, the quarrels had become less frequent but more intense, but he wasn’t sure how to explain this to Kidrash. 

There was another crash. Kidrash laughed. “How lovely,” he said.

“How…lovely?” Shar asked.

“It reminds me of the arguments I used to have with Aravis’s mother.” 

There was more cursing and another demand that Aravis open the door, followed by a few moments of silence. Maybe they’re finished, Shar thought hopefully, but experience had taught him that this was unlikely. Sure enough, the shouting and cursing began again, louder than ever.

“They don’t ever strike each other, do they?” asked Kidrash.

“Well…” said Shar, “I’m sure he’s never struck her, but Aravis smacked him a few times when they were younger. I don’t think she’s done it in years…She throws things, but they never connect, and her aim is too good for that to be an accident.”

Kidrash nodded judiciously and sipped his tea. “And tell me, who usually wins?”

“What?”

“When Aravis and Cor quarrel, who usually wins the day?”

“Oh, um, I haven’t kept score. I think…probably they’re about even.”

“Good,” said Kidrash. “That’s as it should be.”

“This really doesn’t bother you?”

“On the contrary, I find it reassuring. I had the idea that Cor was a bit passive. Soft. I suppose it’s because he’s so quiet. I’m glad to know he has a backbone, and a temper.”

“Really,” said Shar.

“Oh yes, otherwise he’d never be able to stand up to Aravis. And a marriage should always involve a bit of open conflict, I think. Otherwise one becomes too complacent.”

“Really,” Shar said again.

“Do you have any idea what they’re quarreling about?” Kidrash asked.

“None. It could be almost anything.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll find out when it’s all over. I believe I’ll have another cup of tea.”

 

Kidrash seemed determined to linger and observe the whole show. After a while the shouting and cursing died down. Cor’s parting shot, “In that case, Tarkheena, you can just stay in there and rot!” was followed by the sound of his footsteps in the gallery. Then there was silence. A little while later they saw Aravis, dressed in trousers for riding, striding across the ward to the stables.

“Going for a ride,” said Kidrash, nodding. “That’s what I used to do.”

“She’ll probably be gone all afternoon,” said Shar, “but she ought to be calmed down by the time she returns." Kidrash nodded again.

A few minutes later Cor came in, looking angry and disheveled. He started to say something to Shar, then noticed Kidrash, whose back was to him, and went red in the face. He was just backing away when Kidrash turned, smiled at him, and invited him to sit down. Kidrash sent a servant for another cup, telling Cor that he must taste this tea, which he had brought with him from Calavar, since he had heard nobody drank it here. “I was surprised to find that the Narnian kings and queens drink tea,” he said. “But they put milk in it! A terrible thing to do to a good cup of tea. Who would even dream of such a thing?”

Cor sat, looking puzzled and suspicious. Kidrash didn’t mention the quarrel, but talked pleasantly of other subjects. He suggested that he and Cor go for a ride tomorrow, to get better acquainted. When Kidrash turned to say something to the servant bringing the tea, Cor looked questioningly at Shar, who shrugged.

Well, Shar thought, I suppose this is progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the last paragraph of _A Horse and His Boy_ : “Aravis also had many quarrels (and, I’m afraid, even fights) with Cor, but they always made it up again: so that years later, when they were grown up, they were so used to quarrelling and making it up again that they got married so as to go on doing it more conveniently.”
> 
> "Fight" does seem to indicate physical violence, but I couldn't allow them to hit each other, so I decided that the violence should be directed at the furniture.


	10. A Shorter Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Lune reflects. We find out what the quarrel was about, and who won.

Nearly everything about the way King Lune treated Aravis was shaped by the way that Arsheesh the fisherman had treated his son. He knew that his anger at Arsheesh was in some ways unfair: Arsheesh was poor, and many of the privations of Cor’s childhood were unavoidable. The fisherman had had no way of finding out who Cor was, or how to return him to his family. But it would have cost him nothing to show Cor some kindness. Arsheesh had called Cor his son and treated him like a slave. Lune tried to treat Aravis as he would have treated his own little girl, Lin, who had died more than 20 years ago, just before her first birthday. Still, he was keenly aware, always, that Aravis had a father, whom she still loved despite everything. Lune had done his best to give Kidrash Tarkaan no reason to hate him. The sticking point, of course, was the one thing Lune could not do: send Aravis back to her father. Even if he had not felt indebted to Aravis for her role in foiling Rabadash’s attack on Anvard, his conscience would not have allowed him to do anything but give her refuge. If he had not given Aravis a home and agreed to keep her secret, she would have gone someplace else, someplace even further afield, someplace where people might not care for her properly. He had to keep her at Anvard, to keep her safe, to make sure she was treated as a child separated from her family ought to be treated: with compassion and respect, both for herself and for her absent family. He hoped that Kidrash was beginning to understand this.

He was finding Kidrash more difficult to cope with than he had expected, however, not because of this thorny personal issue, but because the man was a snob. Although he was a king, Lune was in many ways a modest man. Still, he had his pride. He found himself bridling at Kidrash’s dismissive gestures and remarks. He resented being cast as a barbarian—and not a regal and powerful barbarian like the Narnians, but a poor country bumpkin of a barbarian. Kidrash was a sophisticated man, intelligent, well-traveled, well-educated. Lune was willing to concede that Kidrash knew more of the world than he did, but that didn’t mean he was right about everything; in fact, as far as Lune was concerned, Kidrash was quite wrong about some very important things, such as slavery. Lune wanted to like him, but it was difficult when Kidrash looked down on everything Lune held most dear: Archenland, his subjects, their way of life—and his son and heir.

But now, for what seemed to Lune the most bizarre of reasons, Kidrash had begun to warm to Cor. The day of the quarrel Lune had ridden out with a few men to a nearby village that needed help repairing some storm damage, so he only heard about the quarrel afterward. He was used to these altercations, but they still distressed him. He and Queen Kerr had raised their voices to each other only a handful of times throughout their long marriage, and although his new queen, Surr, was a very different woman from his first wife, their relationship was much the same: loving, companionable, peaceable. He didn’t understand all this shouting, door-slamming, and cursing. Cor and Aravis always made up their quarrels, and he had soon begun to understand that they were not as violent as they sounded, so he had learned to accept them. Kidrash, on the other hand, apparently approved of the whole business, thought it a good augury for the marriage. Well, that made one more thing he didn’t understand about Kidrash.

Cor and Aravis were cold to each other that evening at supper, but the next morning they spent an hour in the library making up. There was no more yelling, but their voices were clearly audible. King Lune, Queen Lucy, and Kidrash sat in the gallery outside the library, listening.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” asked the queen.

“Not very much,” said Lune.

“They’ve been in there alone quite a while. I think we ought to fetch them out,” said Lucy.

“Oh, really, my dear, is that necessary? They’re obviously just talking,” said Lune.

Without answering, Lucy got up and knocked on the library door. Kidrash looked at Lune and shrugged.

Cor opened the door. “Yes, what—oh, Queen Lucy,” he said.

“Are you going to be out soon? We really oughtn’t to let you be alone so long, you know,” she said.

Cor looked at her stonily for a moment. Then he opened the door wider so that Lucy could see Aravis, who was sitting in a chair, tear-stained, but composed. “As you can see, madam, no indiscretion has occurred. Nor will it. We are resolving our differences, and we will come out when we’re good and ready,” he said quietly. "And not before."

Lucy, taken aback, did not reply, and Cor closed the door. Even with it shut, Aravis's laugh was clearly audible.

Lune and Kidrash looked at each other and smiled: for once, they were in agreement.

 

Lucy did get her way about one thing. It turned out that the quarrel had been about her idea of keeping Cor and Aravis apart until just before the wedding. Cor had persuaded Aravis to try it. The wedding was in seven weeks, so each of them would stay at Cair for about three weeks, first Aravis, then Cor. Lune wanted to cheer: chaperoning the couple was a chore he was more than ready to be over and done with.

Kidrash and Cor went riding together that afternoon, and when they returned Kidrash said he was ready to give the marriage his blessing. Lune took Cor aside and asked what they had discussed. Cor said that he wasn’t really sure, but that Kidrash had praised his horsemanship.

At supper that evening, Kidrash turned to his host with the air of having come to a decision. “Sir,” he said, “I presume that it has occurred to you that this marriage between your son and my daughter may furnish us with the means to repair the diplomatic rift between Archenland and Calormen.”

“Yes, of course, my lord.”

Kidrash nodded. “I must return home soon, if I'm to complete some necessary business before the wedding," he said. "I plan to return to Cair Paravel with my daughter first, and when I am there, I will be discussing some diplomatic business with King Edmund that bears directly on this question. If you were to join us, I’m sure the discussion would be more fruitful. I realize it is an imposition to ask you to make another journey at this time of year—I wish I had thought of this before we left for Archenland. But I hope you will consider it.” Lune did not answer right away, and Kidrash added, “I have had…a great deal on my mind, and my thinking has not been at its best.”

Lune paused for a moment to wonder what Kidrash was like when his thinking was at its best. “Well, it is a short journey, especially compared to the journeys you have made,” he said.


	11. Boxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin spars with Kidrash.

Corin finally ran out of excuses four days after they got to Anvard. He had already told Kidrash he would be honored to box with him, so he couldn’t just refuse.

What had he been thinking? He didn’t want to hurt the man, but he didn’t want to lose, either, and it would be hard to have much of a bout without risking one or the other of these outcomes. He also couldn’t help but worry that Kidrash, who seemed to see even the most innocuous conversation as a contest of wills, had some kind of secret motive. Fortunately Kidrash seemed to have loosened up significantly since they got to Anvard. Corin wondered whether it was because, except for two dwarfs and an old Raven, all of the people of the court at Anvard were human. 

Kidrash wasn’t old, but he wasn’t young either, and even in his prime he would not have been in the same weight class as Corin. On the other hand, they had agreed to box using Calormene rules because Kidrash had never boxed in the Northern style, while Corin had learned Calormene boxing the previous summer in the capital of Terebinthia, where there was a large and bustling Calormene quarter. This would handicap Corin somewhat, since the rules were quite different than the Marks Kinzery rules used in the North. The most important difference was that according to Calormene rules you couldn't hit your opponent in the face or head, which had a huge impact on offensive strategy and an even bigger impact on defense. Not having to protect your face made it a lot easier to see, though.

They agreed to spar, rather than trying to have a real bout, and when Corin suggested that they both pull their punches Kidrash agreed. Seeing Corin’s surprise, Kidrash laughed and said that he was too old to enjoy getting beaten up. “I don’t have anything like the power or quickness of my youth,” he said, “and I don’t heal as easily.”

Once they got started, Corin found that all of his worries had been groundless. Kidrash was quick for a man his age, and, as Corin had expected, he was very, very clever. He spotted most of Corin’s weaknesses within the first ten minutes, and after that Corin would have had difficulty doing much damage to the man even if he hadn’t been pulling his punches. Corin learned more about Calormene boxing strategy in one session with Kidrash than he had in a whole summer in Terebinthia. Kidrash said he had learned from Corin, too, since they came from different boxing traditions.

Corin enjoyed himself. He wished he could have boxed Kidrash—a real match—when Kidrash was his age.

Corin now admitted to himself that before this he had been a little afraid of Kidrash. The man was so sharp. Much of what Kidrash said went completely over his head, and the way he looked at Corin made him feel that all his secrets had been laid bare—which was ridiculous, because Corin didn’t _have_ any secrets to speak of. Much as he’d tried to hide his feelings, everybody seemed to know that he was in love with Lucy, and he couldn’t think of much else about himself that he even tried to conceal. But after boxing with Kidrash, Corin found he wasn’t afraid of him any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boxing tradition of Narnia and Archenland goes all the way back to King Frank, who, as you may remember, told Aslan that he had never done any fighting except with his fists. Of course he used the Marquess of Queensberry rules.
> 
> Some time after writing this chapter I invented the [Calormene style of boxing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3797461/chapters/8750776), so I did some rewriting (4/11/2017) to reflect that.


	12. Maidenhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy questions her own motives.

Lucy regretted being so officious. No wonder people thought of her as a prude: she was certainly behaving like one. When Cor shut the library door, it had felt like a slap in the face. She was only trying to do what was right! But she had to admit, she was trying a little too hard. She had known all along that nothing improper was going on in the library. Even King Lune, who was no libertine—even Kidrash, so concerned about his daughter's virtue—had not thought it necessary to fetch Cor and Aravis out just then. 

Lucy apologized to Cor and Aravis for interrupting them that morning, and they both laughed and said not to worry about it. And she and Aravis had of course made up the quarrel they had at Cair Paravel the night before they all left for Armouth. Aravis had been anxious these last weeks, but now things seemed to be going well for her. She was reconciling with her father, and in a matter of weeks she would be married to the man she loved. She was Lucy’s friend, and Lucy was happy for her. But she was one more friend who would leave Lucy in the state of maidenhood, leave her for marriage and motherhood. They would still be friends, but it wouldn’t be the same. Maybe that was why she was so determined to keep Aravis and Cor chaperoned until the very last minute. 

When Lucy had resolved never to marry she had not thought it would be so difficult to keep to her plan. At first it had not seemed too great a sacrifice. But it turned out that she was renouncing more than men and marriage. She was also cutting herself off from other women her age, all of whom seemed to be getting married and having babies—or else taking lovers. This had not mattered when she was younger, since her friends were also young. When she got a little older she started to befriend younger girls, like Aravis—who was now about to achieve what everybody seemed to think was a condition necessary to adulthood. In Narnia and Archenland, most women who chose to marry had married by the time they were Lucy’s age. Sometimes she wondered if she was the only virgin over 20 at Cair Paravel. And why? Her reasons, which had seemed so clear and convincing a few years ago, now seemed murky. She might live in Narnia to the end of her days, chaste but unfulfilled. Well, she told herself, if she were following the wrong path, surely Aslan would tell her. But she hadn’t so much as glimpsed Aslan for a couple of years. Some people said he was her lover. It made her want to laugh: if he were in truth her lover, she would have to describe him as inattentive.

Long ago, King Lune and Queen Kerr had broached the idea of a match between her and Corin. That was before Cor returned, when Corin was the heir. She was nearly six years older than he, but in a royal match that wasn’t an unusual age difference, and of course they would have waited until Corin was old enough, 16 or so. What if she had said yes? She would be married now, maybe a mother. She laughed to herself. Married to Corin. He had grown up a lot, and he had become a very strapping young man—in fact, she had begun to find him very attractive. (Those people who didn't assume that Lucy was completely uninterested in men tended to assume instead that she preferred men who were slender and androgynous. This too was incorrect.) But she had come to a pretty pass wondering whether she would be happier now if she had married Corin. She liked the adoring way he looked at her, and she enjoyed feeling sought after, but she didn't love him. Even if she did decide to marry, he would not be the one she chose.

On the last night at Anvard before they began the return journey to Cair Paravel there was dancing after supper. Rishti made a pest of himself again, and Corin valiantly tried to protect her. There was something grotesque about having two boys so much younger than she competing over her. When Corin was 14 he had acted much the same way that Rishti was acting now. She wondered whether young boys would keep falling in love with her even as she aged, as though she herself was still 14, no matter how many years passed. This sort of thing never happened to her sister. Susan wasn't married either, but nobody called her a prude or an old maid. Lucy wondered what would happen if she started a rumor that she had taken a lover; maybe if she did that, people would stop seeing her as a child. But it would be dishonest, and besides, nobody would believe it. Everybody knew she was chaste.

Lucy drank a little more wine than usual that night, and when she left the hall she wandered out into the garden. Would it be so very bad if Corin came out here to look for her? Maybe she should let him kiss her; he was very sweet, and she liked him, and he had loved her steadfastly for years. She didn't want him to think her cruel.

Nobody came out to look for her, and after a while she went up to her cold bed and slept.


	13. Parting

After a few more days, Kidrash, Aravis, Rishti, Lune, Shar, and Lucy set off again for Cair Paravel. The twins rode with them as far as Armouth. Now it was Cor who was having second thoughts about the idea of being separated from Aravis, and it was Aravis who insisted on keeping to the plan. At the dockside, they went out of earshot of the others for a few minutes to say goodbye. 

Corin thought they were being ridiculous. “It’s only a few weeks, and then they’ll be married and they’ll be together night and day. In a few months they’ll be sick of each other!”

“I don’t think they’ve been apart from each other for more than a couple of weeks at a time since they day they met,” said Shar. He thought of all the years he’d been separated from Peter. Well, now he would have a few weeks at Cair Paravel, since he had offered to stay with Aravis and escort her back to Anvard.

Finally they could delay no longer. Kidrash shook Cor’s hand and clapped Corin on the shoulder, as he had seen men doing here. People seemed to think this funny, so Kidrash wondered if it was the wrong thing to do. On the other hand, he had learned that these people laughed at each other often, and that it was not necessarily the affront to one's dignity that it might be at home.

Cor stood on the quay, watching the ship leave the harbor. Eventually Corin informed him they were going to get good and drunk and dragged him back to the inn. Fortunately, Cor’s good sense asserted itself before Corin could start drinking, and they rode back to Anvard the next day with clear heads.

At Cair Paravel, Kidrash sat down with Edmund and Lune and revealed what few people knew: the Tisroc was dying. They had no more than a few months to build the coalition necessary to ensure that Rabadash succeeded to the throne. Kidrash must make his gambit with Rabadash soon, or lose his chance to play a decisive role. Together they hammered out a plan, discussing which tarkaans, functionaries, and other key players Kidrash should approach, and how, and in what order. Kidrash suggested that it would do no harm to let people in Calormen think that Aravis’s marriage to Cor was a piece of diplomacy engineered by Kidrash, one that would finally restore good relations with the entire north. Lune was a bit unhappy about this, but as long as nobody asked him personally to lie, he didn’t object. Edmund and Kidrash arranged means to communicate covertly.

They discussed, too, some of the policies that would affect the northern countries. The thorniest issue was slavery, an issue on which the northern kings were inclined to be absolutists. “Even if I wished it, I could not become an abolitionist,” Kidrash insisted repeatedly. “If I am made Grand Vizier, there are certainly things I can and will do to improve the legal standing of slaves. It might even be possible to outlaw the ownership of Talking Beasts—I could easily frame it as a defensive measure, to rid Calormen of northern demons. Then any Beasts who are still in captivity could cease hiding their natures and be repatriated to the north. But if I were to take an abolitionist position on slavery I would not hold onto power for long, and then any chance of progress would be lost.” Lune and Edmund were not happy with this answer, but they knew that, for the moment at least, it was the best they would be able to do. Even if Kidrash became Grand Vizier, he could not single-handedly remake the empire.

Before he left, Kidrash took Edmund aside. “I am loath to ask King Lune directly, but I have been wondering about how dowries are managed here.”

“In Narnia there really isn’t such a thing. In Archenland the dowry is settled upon the bride.”

Kidrash looked pleased. "If I understand correctly, then, it will be her fortune, to do with as she pleases?"

"Exactly," Edmund said. "She would bring the dowry to the marriage, but it would remain hers."

“Then King Lune will have no reason to be offended in his pride if I settle a large dowry upon Aravis,” Kidrash said.

“I wouldn't think so,” said Edmund, wondering how large a dowry Kidrash was talking about.

“Excellent. And tell me, what other gifts are expected from the bride’s father?”

Edmund hesitated for a moment. Susan knew far more about this kind of thing than he did, but he wasn’t sure it would do to send Kidrash to talk to her about it. The man had been paying a great deal of attention to Susan (though of course with great subtlety and finesse), and Susan seemed to be enjoying it. Edmund reminded himself that his sister was a grown woman who could manage her own affairs, and he told Kidrash neutrally that Susan was the best person to ask. If Kidrash was pleased, he didn’t show it. Edmund admitted to himself that if Susan wasn’t his sister he would want to be a fly on the wall during their conversation. It was certain to be a masterpiece of subtle repartee and veiled flirtation.

Kidrash arranged passage as far as Tashbaan on a Calormen merchant ship. He bid his daughter farewell with quiet affection. He would be back in five weeks’ time for the wedding.


	14. Interlude at Cair Paravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmund, Shar, and Peter gossip and drink brandy.

During the days he was in his talks with Kidrash and Lune, Edmund retired early. He needed to keep himself sharp, and engaging with Kidrash for hours on end was exhausting, even when the man was being forthcoming. Thank heaven for Lune, who had a knack for getting directly to the heart of the matter, cutting through the complex webs Edmund and Kidrash both liked to spin. Without Lune, the talks would have taken twice as long and been no more productive. 

The evening after Kidrash and Rishti left, Edmund went looking for Shar, wanting to know what he had to say about Kidrash's visit to Anvard. He knocked on Shar’s door but was not surprised when his valet gestured down the hall toward Peter’s rooms. When Peter opened the door, Edmund flourished the bottle of brandy he had brought with him and asked if he could come in for a chat. 

Shar, who was sitting on a settle by the fire, laughed. “You can’t fool me. You’re here to gossip,” he said.

Edmund considered for a moment. “I want to know your informal impressions of what happened at Anvard while Kidrash was there,” he said.

“In other words, you’re here to gossip.” 

“Oh, all right, I’m here to gossip. But it sounds so very undignified when you put it that way….”

Peter took the bottle and stood aside for Edmund to come in. Edmund sat down across from Shar, and Peter sat on the settle next to him. 

“What kind of gossip do you want?” Shar asked.

“Well, Kidrash says he’s given the marriage his blessing. Do you think that’s sincere? Or is it just expedience?”

“I think it’s sincere.”

“Why?”

Shar described Aravis and Cor's quarrel and Kidrash’s reaction to it. Edmund laughed so hard, Shar thought he might be sick.

“I do worry about these quarrels of theirs, though,” Edmund said, once he had recovered. “I thought they hadn’t had one in a while.”

“It’s been nearly a year since there’s been anything quite like this.”

“I wonder if they’ll quarrel more or less often after they get married.”

“More,” Shar said, decidedly, “because they’ll finally be able to fully enjoy the pleasures of making up….” He looked sidelong at Peter, who looked away, flushing slightly.

Edmund, reflecting that he'd never had the kind of relationship with a woman that involved being together long enough to quarrel and make up, decided to ignore this. “Things seem to have improved between Kidrash and Lune as well," he said.

“I think so. I'm not certain exactly what happened, nothing as dramatic as that quarrel. I think perhaps it was simply that Kidrash eventually realized that he had underestimated my uncle.”

“Yes, a lot of people seem to dismiss him as fat and jolly,” Peter said. "What a stupid prejudice...He taught me half of what I know about kingship. Not to mention that he's a damned fine swordsman, especially for a man his age."

"He's certainly been invaluable the last few days," said Edmund. "I ought to have invited him to come up here with me, but I think he went early to bed. Oh well, at least this way we can drink his health without embarrassing him. Speaking of which, aren’t you going to pour that? I thought you’d have glasses.”

“There are some in that cabinet behind you,” said Peter. Edmund got out three glasses and put them on the table. Peter poured what looked to Edmund like three rather modest drinks and corked up the bottle again. They raised their glasses in a toast to King Lune.

"Now, more gossip," said Edmund, sipping his brandy.

“Oh, let's see...Corin seemed to be doing his best to demonstrate how much worse a barbarian son-in-law could be—Cor must have looked like a model of probity by comparison. Of course, he _is_ a model of probity, for the most part. He’s certainly never been much of a drinker....but Corin! I think he and Rishti had a bad influence on each other. And Rishti was certainly making a nuisance of himself. Poor Lucy, she was determined to play chaperon, so she couldn’t even retire early to get away from him. I tried explaining to Rishti that just because a woman dances with him and smiles at him and is friendly—which is how Lucy is with everybody—it doesn’t mean she wants him to follow her around all evening. But it didn’t seem to sink in. I didn’t really understand what that was all about until I found out that tarkaans marry young, too, if they can, and they marry rather older women—the ideal bride for a youth is a widow who has proven her fertility by bearing a few children, but is still young enough to bear more. Did you know that?"

"I've heard about it, yes. But I never met very many of these middle-aged tarkheenas with young husbands. I don't think the ladies go out much in society after a certain age."

"Well, Kidrash told me he’s already looking for a widow in her 20’s or early 30’s for Rishti. Someone just about Lucy’s age would be perfect, so I suppose it's not surprising that he thinks of her that way. But of course any widow young enough to bear an heir is very much sought after, because there are generally a lot more young men of marriageable age than there are young widows. Apparently if Kidrash can’t find a widow for Rishti, then the boy will have to resort to concubines until he’s of an age and stature to convince some tarkaan with a nubile daughter to make a contract. It’s an odd system. But Kidrash seems to think it's the best way. When he married Aravis’s mother, she was 29 and he was 18."

"Hunh," said Edmund, thinking of the Duchess of Galma, who had seduced him when he was 18. "Well, there's certainly something to be said for that..."

"I suppose so. But it has its drawbacks. She was 45 when Rishti was born, and from what Kidrash told me it sounds as though that’s what killed her, although she didn’t die until a couple of years later. She seems to have been a remarkable woman. Brilliant, he says, and politically astute. She came from a family of scholars—her grandmother was a famous mathematician, or perhaps it was her great grandmother. But it sounds like there was more to her than brains. I think Kidrash was very much in love with her.”

“How much brandy did you and Kidrash have to drink before he told you all that?”

Shar laughed. “Quite a lot,” he said, “but I wasn’t keeping close track. I think he was trying to pump me for information about Peter, but I didn’t tell him anything, at least not on purpose. You know how the man is, he notices everything, and you give away information without realizing it.”

“Yes, and then he hints at some of the things he’s divined, just to make you wonder what he knows that he’s not telling you….

“Exactly.”

“But did he ever say anything to you about why he decided to give Aravis to Ahoshta? I have a few ideas...”

“He blames his wife for convincing him—his second wife. His young wife. She was only a few years older than Aravis. When she talks about her hated stepmother, do you imagine a girl of 17? That’s how old she was when Aravis ran away.”

“It doesn’t seem like Kidrash to be led astray like that. He’s such a strong personality. He seems so utterly in control.”

“It’s hard to imagine. But…I think she was beautiful, and young, and he was nearly 40 when they married. I’ve seen men in that situation, and they do seem to lose all perspective, at least for a while.”

“It does make it easier to understand why she saw Aravis as such a threat.”

“Yes. And she was pregnant at the time. That must have been part of it as well. I wonder if the little girl will come to the wedding.”

“Probably not. Kidrash hasn’t even mentioned her—I doubt I'd've known of her existence if you hadn’t said something. Does Aravis even know she has a half sister?”

“Yes, apparently somebody told her, maybe even Kidrash, but….it’s odd, the only one who seems to think of her at all is Rishti. It’s almost as though she doesn’t exist.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with her, is there? She’s not deformed or imbecile or something?”

“Not as far as I know. I saw her a couple of times, and she seemed quite normal. I don’t know anything about young children, but Peridan must, and he didn’t seem to think there was anything odd about her. Perhaps it’s just that she reminds Kidrash of her mother. He really does hate the woman.” 

“How did she die?”

“A fever. Several people on the estate died.”

“How convenient...”

“I know what you're thinking, but I'm reasonably sure Kidrash didn't have anything to do with it. He has a strong moral code, even if it's different than ours.”

Shar uncorked the brandy and made as if to pour himself another glass, but Peter took the bottle from his hand and corked it up again.

“One more won’t hurt me,” said Shar.

“It won’t help you, either,” said Peter.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not drunk. Not even close.”

“I thought we had an agreement.”

“Oh, have it your way.”

“Good, I—Edmund, why are you laughing? It’s not funny.”

“Sorry,” said Edmund. “It’s just—for a moment you sounded just like Mother. Remember how she used to get after Father about his drinking?... ‘Bob, you’ve had enough. What will the boys think?…’ ” He tried to suppress his laughter, but it was no use. 

Shar began to laugh, too. Peter looked irritated. Then he uncorked the bottle and handed it to Shar. “Go ahead, have as much as you like,” he said in long-suffering tones. “But you drink too much. Both of you do.”

Shar took the bottle, corked it up again, and set it on the table. “Is that all right? And Edmund takes it with him when he leaves.”

 _Yes, but who's going to prevent me from drinking the rest of it?_ Edmund thought, sighing inwardly. He took the bottle. “I wish I hadn’t brought this with me. It doesn’t seem to help,” he said. He poured himself another glass, ignoring Peter's glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess that much of my motivation for writing this was to have some fun with Peter and Shar. Also, there were a few loose ends I thought needed tying up.


	15. Half Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravis wonders how much she has really changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concerning this and the following chapters:  
> I wrote about the first half of this chapter a long time ago and then got stuck. I didn’t get unstuck until I read [That We May Hear the Whispers Of The Gods](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2336501) and thought of a way for Aravis to resolve her internal conflict (as much as these things are ever resolved). Thanks to [ rthstewart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart) for the inspiration.

After Kidrash departed for Calormen, Aravis took a deep breath and waited to feel the peace she knew she ought to feel. Everything seemed to be working out as well as could be hoped.

Why then did she feel so unsettled?

She felt more out of place, more foreign, more peculiar than she had since the first year after she came to Anvard, when nobody seemed to understand her, not even Cor, and when she had often wondered whether she had made a terrible mistake in coming to the North. Over time, so gradually that she was scarcely aware of the change, she began to be more at home here, and to be more accepted, as well. She behaved as though she had made her adjustment to the North and its ways. Now she realized that she had simply put the problem aside.

Seeing her father and brother reminded her of things she had not thought about in a long time, parts of herself that she had buried and tried to forget. Her father had brought with him a few foods he thought she might have missed: peppered green-nuts, pomegranate syrup, a wedge of the cheese made on the estate, and a bag of kivalis, the fragrant little citrus fruits grown only in Calavar. Tasting these was like opening a door in her memory. She thought of games she had played with her brothers; of all the old songs and rhymes; of her mother's boudoir, scented with jasmine, the best smell in the world; of Rodit gently correcting her as he taught her how to tell the old stories and how to construct and polish new ones; of the way that during the hottest days of the year the family lingered on the terrace after supper, enjoying the cool of the evening; of the stars blazing in the infinite vault above. She dreamed of galloping a horse across the vast, treeless plains of Calavar, under an immense, cloudless sky; she dreamed of an openness and spaciousness that she had almost forgotten, a life in which the sky seemed no more remote than the sea.

Not all of her memories were good, of course. Remembering the way she had treated Rodit, who loved her, made her burn with shame. She recalled the fear that people felt during the fire season, when the wells were dry and the reservoirs nearly empty and everybody was waiting anxiously for the rains to come again. She thought of her mother's long illness, the poisonous atmosphere the household had taken on after her father remarried, and the terrible day they learned that her elder brother, Idrith, was dead. But these experiences, too, were part of her.

She thought about the Full Moon rites. How long had it been since she had performed them? She had persisted faithfully all during that first year, and certainly for a while afterward. She couldn't remember when or why she had stopped.

***

One night a couple of days after her father left, Aravis lay in her bed, unable to sleep. She began to imagine the wedding night, just a few weeks away now. She imagined stripping Cor down to the skin. He was very beautiful. Even his paleness, which had seemed so uncanny to her when they first met, was familiar now, and part of his beauty. She imagined him tugging off her garments slowly, one by one (probably he would not be so masterful when the time came, but that was all right because probably she would be past caring about subtlety). She imagined pressing herself against him, his hands on her, his mouth; she caressed him; his seedling grew into a tree. She imagined riding him into the dawn, and she was burning, burning, but she couldn’t make the sun rise. Something was wrong. Eventually she gave up.

She got out of bed and opened the shutters. It was late winter, the very cusp of spring: frosty, but not uncomfortably cold. The half-moon shone through the branches of a chestnut tree growing just beyond the castle gates. She could hear the white murmur of the sea, such a constant at Cair Paravel that in order to notice it you had to deliberately listen for it. She could hear rustling branches, Dryads shifting in their sleep without the touch of any wind; the guards on the parapet talking in low voices; the faint flaps and clicks and cries made by bats and by birds that flew by night. She tried to remember how to call upon the Lady of the Night, but it was so long since she had done so that she couldn’t summon the right words. 

“Zardeenah?” she whispered. “Are you here?” She listened, but of course the goddess did not reply.

The package her father had given her, containing a silk bag of charms and a block of incense, was sitting on a table by the bed. She took it up and turned it over, weighing it in her hands.

***

It was nearly midnight when Aravis knocked on Lucy’s door. Probably Lucy was asleep and she would have to come back in the morning, but there was no harm in trying. She knocked softly, expecting no answer, and she was about to go when Lucy opened the door.

“Aravis, what is it? Is something wrong?” Lucy asked. She was wearing a dressing gown, and she did not look as though she had just awoken.

“Lucy, will you come away with me for a few days, to the woods? There’s something I need to do.”

“Of course, if you want me to. What is it?”

“It’s a rite, for the end of maidenhood. A Calormene rite. Is that all right? It’s just fasting and dancing, really. I don’t think Aslan would mind.” 

“Well, I suppose so. You’ll have to tell me more, but it sounds all right.”

“The only thing is….if you don’t mind my asking…”

“What is it?”

“Well, are you a maiden?”

Lucy smiled a queer little smile. “You must be the only person in the world who has any doubt about that,” she said.


	16. Lady of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravis calls upon Zardeenah to release her from her service.

At least the timing was good: the third day of the rites must be performed at the full moon, which was a week away. But as they prepared, Aravis started to worry again. There was so much she could not remember. She had joined in the rites twice, once seven years ago when she attended her friend Sadaaf, and then a few months before she ran away, when she attended Lasaraleen. Both times there had been several attendants, so Aravis had not had to manage all the details. She found a book in the library at Cair Paravel that described the rites, but most of the description didn’t match what she remembered. Either the person who wrote the book didn’t really know and had made up a lot of the details (this seemed to be common in books about Calormen written by Northerners), or the rites had changed during the three centuries since the book was written. Still, it included part of the invocation to the Goddess, which jogged her memory enough to enable her to recall all of the words.

As for the rest, she had the incense her father had given her, and she had found a small metal bowl that would do for a censer. She thought she could remember what to do with the charms. She had salt and wine from the kitchen at Cair Paravel, and she had just begun menstruating, so getting the blood before full moon wouldn’t be a problem. But she knew that Lucy would be unhappy if she sacrificed a rabbit. Lucy ate meat, but she had once told Aravis that she sometimes wished she could give it up altogether, as she hated to see animals killed. Aravis was sure Lucy would say that Aslan would disapprove of the sacrifice, and that was probably correct. Would Zardeenah mind if they left it out? Father had said that he didn’t think Zardeenah would insist on the rites being perfect in every detail. But he was a man. What did he know about the Lady of the Night?

There was no point in worrying. Aravis had decided to do this. She would have to leave a out large pieces of the ceremony, so she would have to accept that it wasn't going to be perfect and hope that it would be good enough.

At dawn three days before the full moon they rode to the woods above Glasswater. They took one pack horse, loaded with tent, blankets, and other gear, as well as food (not very much, as they were going to be fasting most of the time). It had been a mild winter and there was no snow on the ground. The air was crisp, and their breath made clouds. They found a place to camp near the stream, where there was a small pool that would do for the immersion. There was no ice in the water, but Aravis knew it would be freezing cold. She had not thought about this when she decided to perform the rites; in Calormen, freezing cold water was rarely a problem. Oh well, the immersion came at the very end of the ceremony, and if they didn’t manage to invoke the goddess, she wouldn’t have to do it. If they succeeded, she would just have to dunk herself as quickly as possible.

That day they ate nothing but bread and water, and little of that. They danced, but Aravis couldn’t remember all the steps of the dances, so they improvised. Whenevér they stopped and rested they talked and told stories. At nightfall they made a fire and cast the salt into the flames. Aravis told the story of the Creation of the Three Realms and the story of the Birth of Zardeenah, daughter of Azaroth and Hahatoth. Lucy had heard both stories before, but she said she had never heard them told so well.

The second day they allowed only water to pass their lips. They danced. They burned incense, using coals from last night's fire to heat the censer. That afternoon they were visited by a curious Fox, who seemed to find the whole ritual fascinating. At sunset Aravis took the charms out of the silk bag and laid them on a rock. Leaving them behind when she ran away had been a very bad mistake that could have gotten her caught, but her father said he had not found them until after he realized that she had run away. Each charm represented a different stage of life and was made of a different material: Maidenhood (wood), Womanhood (clay), Motherhood (silver), Wisdom (glass). All of the charms except the Maidenhood charm, which had been newly made when it was given to her at birth, had belonged to her mother. She couldn’t remember all the words of the prayers to say over them, so she made up the parts she had forgotten. She had always thought the ritual of the charms a bit incongruous, although the Maidenhood charm was essential to the rite. Charms were important in the worship of the Eastern gods, and she wondered if long ago this part of the ceremony had been borrowed from that tradition. Her mother would have known. At that moment she missed her mother with a piercing sorrow, greater than she had felt in many years. She told Lucy some of her memories of her mother, and Lucy talked a little bit about her own mother, back in the land of Spar Oom, which Lucy said was really called England.

They built up the fire. At moonrise Aravis carefully put the Womanhood, Motherhood, and Wisdom charms away in the silk bag. Then she placed the Maidenhood charm in a patch of moonlight while she said the final prayer. She wrapped it in a piece of silk and gave it to Lucy to hold for her. Now was when she was supposed to sacrifice the rabbit, but instead she took a stick of wood she had found that looked something like a rabbit (what with the fasting and the cold, anything was beginning to seem possible) and prayed over it, and threw it into the fire.

The third day they continued to fast. They talked less. Both were feeling quiet: the dancing and the fasting and the incense were making them light-headed. The Fox had been talking to his neighbors, and during the afternoon several Beasts visited them: a Raven, two Hares, and a sleepy Bear who was cross because she had woken up several weeks earlier than she had intended to and was hungry. They offered her some wine and dried fruit, which she graciously accepted. These visitors were pleasant diversions, relieving the monotony of dancing and fasting. At sunset they lit a fire. When the moon rose they stripped off their clothes, shivering a little. Aravis fed the piece of linen stained with her woman’s blood to the fire, and as it was being consumed, they chanted the invocation together:

Lady of the Night,  
Lady of the Moon,  
Lady of Divine Madness,  
Who guards the purity of Maidens,  
Who unfurls the darkness for a sail  
Who sails a silver ship upon the sky,  
Who illuminates the darkness and yet is never seen,  
Who waxes and wanes and yet endures,  
Who sees beyond the edge of the world into the unending dark,  
Who sees through darkness as a mortal sees through glass,  
Who sees into the hearts of maidens,  
Who sees the secrets we hide even from ourselves,  
We who are yet maidens call upon thee,  
With woman’s blood we call upon thee  
Beseeching thee to release this maiden, Aravis, daughter of Veledis, from thy service.

By the time they finished the invocation, Aravis knew that the words had traveled beyond the sound of their voices. She knew now that her father had been right: most of this ceremony was unnecessary. The only really essential elements up to this point were the fasting, the blood, and the invocation. She was glad she hadn't tried to convince Lucy it would be necessary to sacrifice a rabbit.

They waited in silence. When the Lady came, they would not see her. She never showed herself—perhaps she had no form at all—but made her presence known in other ways.

A light wind rose and a voice spoke out of the darkness, but not in words. The voice cradled Aravis, and she felt herself walking toward the water, toward the edge of the pool they had chosen for the immersion. She braced herself and took the first step. The water was indeed icy, but the voice of the Goddess protected her, so although she sensed that the water was cold, she felt no shock or pain. She waded in waist deep, drew a long breath, and plunged her head and shoulders under the water. Then she arose, water streaming in rivulets down her back, and climbed back out of the pool. She felt poised for release: it was time to cut the thread binding her to the goddess. Lucy was waiting for her. She also did not seem to feel the cold. She handed the wineskin to Aravis, who sprinkled a few drops on the ground. Then she wet her finger with wine and anointed Lucy’s brow, her lips, and the notch above her collarbone, and did the same to herself. Aravis closed her eyes and drank. Wine after two days of fasting was bound to have a strong effect, but she only drank one swallow, and this was not ordinary drunkenness. She felt lightheaded and insubstantial. Lucy gave her the Maidenhood charm, still in its silk wrapping, and Aravis cast it into the hottest part of the fire. She closed her eyes. A moment later, as the charm was consumed, light blazed behind her eyelids. She felt a painful jolt as the bond broke. For a moment she drifted. She fell to her knees, shuddering.

***

Aravis opened her eyes. It was dark, and she was shaking with cold.

“Is it finished?” Lucy asked. Aravis couldn't speak, but she managed to nod. “Are you very cold?” Lucy asked anxiously. She was holding a blanket. Aravis nodded again, so Lucy came to her, put her arms around her, and wrapped the blanket around both of them. “You’re like ice,” Lucy said worriedly. She rubbed Aravis's back with her hands. When Aravis had warmed up enough to stop shivering uncontrollably, Lucy left her for a few moments to build up the fire and place another blanket by it to warm. Aravis sat down, warming her feet by the fire. Lucy got back under the blanket with her. She rubbed Aravis’s feet and calves and tried to dry her hair. Then they sat by the fire for a while, cuddled together, skin to skin. As the warmth returned to her body, Aravis felt her hands and feet tingling and prickling. Then she was starting to feel as warm as toast and to enjoy the feel of Lucy’s arms around her. She was sleepy, and she didn’t feel like stirring. The fire was blazing. 

They passed the wineskin back and forth. It wasn't very full, which was probably just as well, as after a fast a little went a long way, and soon it was empty. They weren’t supposed to eat until after sunrise, and then they could eat whatever they wanted. They lay down, covering themselves in all the blankets they could find. Lucy lay next to Aravis with an arm around her waist, and it was not long before they fell asleep.

***

Aravis woke. Lucy was gone from under the blanket, and she missed her warmth and her embrace. Then she heard Lucy’s voice, but not her words, and another voice, deeper and resonant, answering it: “Beloved, you must choose your path. I can guide you, but you know I cannot _make_ you do anything.” The moon had long since set and the fire had died down to glowing embers, so Aravis could see very little, but there was no mistaking the massive bulk of the Lion. Lucy was sitting curled between his front paws, with her face half buried in his mane. For a moment Aravis felt abandoned, but she knew that Lucy had not seen Aslan in a very long time, and that seeing him always made her feel happy. How could she begrudge it? Aravis closed her eyes again, letting the murmur of their voices wash over her, and fell back asleep. Later on she dreamed that Aslan leaned over her and breathed upon her, filling her with peace.

***

When Aravis woke in the morning, Lucy had already dressed and had built up the fire. She was frying bacon and eggs in a big pan, and the wonderful smell was what had awoken Aravis. Both of them were ravenous, and they were too busy eating to say very much for a while. Lucy had put a pot of porridge on the coals to cook as well, and when it was ready they ate it with honey and all the dried fruit they hadn't given to the Bear.

“I wish I’d thought to bring some tea,” Lucy said.

Aravis got up and fetched a small metal box out of her saddlebag. “I almost forgot I had this. My father brought me tea from Calavar." Aravis watched Lucy getting the water for the tea and wondered whether she ought to say anything about what had happened between them last night. In one sense, nothing had happened, but Aravis had enjoyed their physical closeness very much, and she thought Lucy had, as well. She didn't understand why Lucy refused to marry or take a lover, especially since a year or two ago she had admitted to Aravis that it was making her unhappy. Lucy had tried to explain her reasons, but they made no sense to Aravis. Why did Lucy, who was so open and generous and loving, persist in holding herself apart from people in this one particular way? She wondered if that was what Lucy and Aslan had been talking about, but she knew better than to ask. Lucy would tell her if she wanted her to know.

"Did the ceremony do what you wanted it to?" Lucy asked.

"Yes," said Aravis. "I think so. I think...I'm really ready to be married now." They were silent for a moment, and then Aravis asked, "What did you feel? Did you feel the presence of the Goddess?"

"Yes," said Lucy. "She was kinder than I thought she would be. I had imagined her as rather harsh and cold, but she wasn't like that at all. She didn't want to part with you, I'm sure you could feel that. I suppose she doesn't want to part with any of her maidens, but when they ask to be released she lets them go anyway. I think it's very sad for her."

"If she didn't part with some of us, there wouldn't be any new maidens for her to care for," Aravis pointed out.

Lucy nodded slowly. "I'd forgotten about the scars on your back," she said. Aravis was disconcerted. She wasn't sure how this related to what they had been talking about and didn't know how to respond. "Are you ready to pack up?" Lucy asked.

On the journey back to Cair Paravel, Lucy seemed to be in a good mood. Aravis didn't know whether it was seeing Aslan, going home to Cair, the pleasure of eating after a fast, or something else, but whatever it was, she was pleased that Lucy was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's at least one more chapter coming, but I decided to post this to make myself quit tinkering with it.
> 
> If this chapter seems like a set-up for some femslash, that's understandable, although it wasn't my intention. I was writing the scene and letting it go where it wanted to. Suddenly I realized that they were both naked and Aravis had just taken a dip in freezing cold water and needed to be warmed up, and I thought to myself "by the Lion's whiskers, what do we have here?" I did think of writing something overtly erotic, but I decided it wouldn't be fair to Lucy, since Aravis is about to marry Cor, and besides, it would introduce a new complication when I'm trying to finish this thing. On the other hand, skin to skin heat transfer really is a good way to warm someone who's in danger of hypothermia, and I liked the ceremony the way it was and didn't want to change it. And Aravis had to be cold once she no longer had the Goddess's protection. So I went with cozy naked cuddling, which may or may not be inherently erotic, depending on your proclivities.
> 
> All of which is to say that anybody who is disappointed about there being no overt sex is welcome to use the scenario for that purpose.


	17. Life Histories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aravis has adapted; so has Cor.

About a week after Aravis and Lucy came back from the woods Cor sent a message saying that the pass was clear and that he and Corin would be riding up in a few days. As it happened, they arrived late in the evening the day before they were due. Aravis was already in bed when she heard a commotion in the courtyard below. She jumped up and opened her shutters in time to see Cor dismounting from his horse. She threw on a wrapper and ran down the stairs barefoot.

Watching their greeting, Corin pretended to be disgusted. “By the Lion, it’s been three weeks. Not three months, or three years: _three weeks_! You two are impossible….”

“Go away, Corin,” said Aravis.

Corin rolled his eyes. “You’d be amazed how often I hear that. Well, I can see I’m not wanted here…” he said, and trooped off to the kitchen, where a sleepy faun was soon dishing up a hot supper for the travelers. Corin’s mood improved markedly after a cup of mulled wine.

Aravis sat with them while they ate. It turned out that they had started early and made such good time during the morning that Cor managed to persuade Corin to press on, instead of camping before nightfall as they had planned.

“I never should have agreed,” said Corin. “We were riding into the wind nearly the whole way. It was beastly cold!”

“It would have been just as bad tomorrow,” Cor said.

“No it wouldn’t, because I would have had a night’s sleep in the meantime.”

“You’ll sleep better here.”

“Cor, do you remember when you first came back from Calormen, how you’d let me talk you into almost anything?...I miss those days,” said Corin.

***

Aravis would be returning to Archenland with Shar and a small escort, but they had a day to spend together before she left. So the next morning Cor and Aravis sat in the library before the fireplace while Queen Susan, who was on chaperon duty, sat at the other end of the room writing letters. Susan was helping Queen Surr to plan the wedding, which was now less than a month away, and messangers were flying back and forth every day.

Aravis had written to Cor to tell him she was going to perform the rites to release herself from Zardeenah's service, but she hadn’t told him anything else about the ceremony until now. Certain parts, like the invocation, were secret, but she told him all the parts that weren’t. Cor’s favorite bits were the impromptu interruptions by the Fox, the Bear, and the other Beasts. Aravis agreed that they had made the whole rite seem more homely. “I suppose a visit from a Hare is what you get in Narnia instead of a rabbit sacrifice,” she said.

“Well, I’m glad you did it,” Cor said.

“Really? Did it bother you that I hadn’t?”

“Oh, not exactly. I never knew much about Zardeenah, I was raised by a lifelong bachelor, remember? I don’t think Arsheesh knew much about women or women’s mysteries. But I wondered if it would matter to you. You used to perform the rites every month.”

“How did you even know about that?”

“You told me! Remember, when we came up here to Cair for a few weeks, about a year after we came to Archenland, and you were upset when you realized you’d forgotten something you needed for the rites. But you wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

She laughed. “Oh, yes…”

“So, what was it you forgot?”

“I’m not going to tell you! It’s a women’s secret!”

“I don’t have any secrets from you. I’m an open book,” he said.

“Oh really? Did you tell me every last thing about that skirmish on the border?”

“Well…I didn’t want you to worry…”

“Open book…” she said, poking him in the chest accusingly.

Cor glanced over to see if Susan was looking at them just then, and since she wasn’t they took the opportunity for a good long kiss. Aravis sighed and suppressed a vision of the two of them rolling off the sofa onto the floor.

“Cor, I want to ask you a question…”

“What?”

“Well, everybody expects us to have a baby right away...." She paused in case he had something to say about that, and when he didn't disagree she continued: "And...If we have a daughter…what would you think if I taught her the Full Moon Rites?”

He eyed her dubiously. “Are you asking my _permission_?”

“No…I just want to know if it would trouble you.”

“Good! For a moment there you had me worried…”

“But would it?”

“No. It’s a women’s mystery. None of my business," he said, with a little grin.

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything from Calormen, beyond cursing and a few superstitions, that you want to hold on to,” she said.

“Other than you?” he asked. She smiled and slid closer, and he put an arm around her. After a moment he said, “There's not much about my old life that I want to remember. But I understand that it's different for you. When you talk about Calormen, usually I barely recognize it.”

“I know,” she said. They had grown up in different regions of the empire in entirely different circumstances, and the problems they faced when they came to Anvard had been different as well. Cor had once told her that the difference between north and south was nothing next to the difference between a prince and a poor fisherman's son. And unlike Aravis he looked like an Archenlander, so after he lost his accent people were rarely reminded that he had grown up in another land. It was no wonder that he had given himself more fully to the north than she had; there was less for him to regret, and far more reason to change. And yet...in some ways, he hadn't changed at all.

“Do you remember the time you told me that it was easier being Shasta than being Cor?” she asked. “It must have been about a month after we came to Anvard. You said Shasta never had to worry about disappointing anybody."

"Yes, I remember...."

"Do you still feel that way?”

“I haven’t thought about it in a long time, so I suppose not,” he said. "At least, of course it was easier, in a lot of ways...but I couldn't go back to being Shasta now. I’ve spent the last six years learning to be a prince of Archenland."

"If you could do something else, what would it be?" she asked.

"I can't think of it that way. This is what I have to do," he said.

"You never thought about it, even in the beginning?"

"Not really. I do remember thinking about what it would be like to run away again, go someplace in the Western Wild, or sail away to the islands where nobody would know who I was....But I never would have done it."

"I wonder what it would have been like. If we'd gone together, I mean."

They sat telling stories of their adventures together on the high seas until it was time to go in to dinner.


End file.
